


Watch The Queen Conquer

by Wisowind



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:24:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wisowind/pseuds/Wisowind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Ciara, a clever noble and daughter of Teyrn Cousland. A play-through of Dragon Age: Origins turned into a story focusing on the heroine, Ciara, a girl who knows the value of a quick tongue and a pretty face. A woman who defines her life by how far up nobility she can climb, while sleeping with servants on the side. But when her entire family is slaughtered and she’s forced to join the Grey Wardens her life gets thrown into chaos, and things will never be the same. Giving up on the life she always dreamed, she commits herself to her duty as a Grey Warden: saving the world from the blight. But soon after joining almost all of the Wardens are killed, leaving it is up to her and Alistair, another Grey Warden, to save the world. Alistair is kind, funny, young and attractive, not the type of man she at all expected in her old life. But as a Grey Warden, she is free to do as she will. The romance goes well until she finds out Alistair is the bastard son of King Maric and most likely heir to the throne. Now her old ambitions and new life collide as she tries to balance: saving the world, falling in love, and her deep-set desire for power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fun Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An intro to Ciara's life before Dragon Age: Origins storyline starts, written to try and make her more likable within the first 3 paragraphs

* * *

         Ciara watched the soldiers preparing to leave from the side of the courtyard, wishing she could go with them. Her father and brother would be heeding the King’s call to bring Highever’s men to join the war in the south, where they were fighting darkspawn. From what she heard they were beastial creatures, things told of in stories from long ago. Common belief was that they were destroyed 400 years ago, but apparently that wasn't so, as a horde had amassed in the Kocari wilds. King Cailan was raising an army to push them back.

         She looked down at Aldenon, her mabari war hound, who was digging a very large hole in the side of the courtyard, right by her mother’s favorite flowers: white with a red center. If she remembered correctly, her mother had them planted to stop the dog digging there. With his tail wagging from side to side and his face covered in dirt, he looked up at her. While her mother would expect her to chastise the dog, she couldn’t help but smile.

         “Having fun?” she asked.

         Al barked happily at her before continuing digging. At that point Braylen, one of her family’s elven serving men, came over to her. He had long dark hair and very pretty green eyes, which would roll up in the loveliest way when he came.

         “Your father would like to see you,” he informed her, looking over at Al tearing up the ground, “You know your mother won’t be happy when she finds out.”

         “ **If** she finds out,” Ciara added smiling at him.

         “Well, I’m not going to tell her,” Braylen replied, “Your father still wants to see you.”

         “Did he say when?”

         “As soon as you could. He’s visiting with Arl Howe, however, so they could be talking for a while.”

         Ciara turned, moving closer to Braylen, moving them back into the shadows.

          “And do you have anything you need to be doing after this?” she asked in a whisper.

         “Your father gave me leave to go home as soon as I told you,” he replied, moving even closer.

         This was why she liked Braylen, he wasn’t afraid of her. A lot of the servants, especially the elven servants were, and even if they weren’t they were all extremely obedient. Braylen had a fire to him. She’d met him when she’d snuck into the alienage without her guards, she’d wanted to see what it was like. While being watched carefully by the elves there, Braylen walked up to her, with one of his green eyes black and bruises on most of his body. She’d watch the few elves she could see tense up, as Braylen just glared.

         “Shemlen don’t belong here,” he’d spat at her, “So you’d better leave now, if you know what’s good for you.”

         Al started to growl but she put a hand on his head as she’d stared at him, no when had spoken to her like that in her entire life.

         “What’s a shemlen?” she’d asked.

         “A human like you, now are you going to leave or not.” he replied, still glaring.

         “Maybe,” she replied, “Where do you work anyway that you have so many bruises?”

         He’d just stared at her.

         “What’s it to you?” he replied.

         “Well that depends,” she answered, “How did you get the bruises?”

         “No way I’m telling a dirty shem like you,” he’d replied.

         “Okay how about this then, for every question of mine you answer, I’ll take another step backwards out of the alienage.”

         He’d looked at her, weighing his choices. They were currently standing under a large tree which if she was correct was called the vhenadahl, whatever that meant.

         “Fine, but you have to take three steps backwards to start and all of them have to be big steps.”

         She smiled, taking three very large steps back. Before asking him the question again.

         “Where did you get the bruises?”

         “Dirty shems like you,” he said, “Now take another step back.”

         She did so, turning back to him.

         “Do you have a job?” she asked, stepping back before he answered to try and get him to say more.

         “Yes,” he replied curtly.

         “Is that why you have the bruises?” she asked. From what she understood, elves had limited options for work, and most of them weren’t safe. With the amount of bruises he had however, something definitely seemed off.

         “Maybe,” he answered, in a way that clearly meant yes.

         “Would you take another job, which didn’t get you hurt like that?” she asked, nearly at the gateway to the alienage.

         “Not like there is any,” he replied, “Why?”

         “I’ll pay you twice whatever you’re making now, to work for my family,” she’d told him.

         “Work as a servant?” he replied, “No thanks.”

         That last step took her out of the alienage. He’d walked away at that, but she hadn’t given up. It had turned out Braylen had been working for a man who’d been organizing illegal fights. Because his help she was able to shut them down and the elves working there were offered jobs either at the castle, or elsewhere. And here they were now, several years later, smiling at each other in the shadows beside the courtyard. They weren’t exclusive, or even together, and both knew this wouldn’t last, but it was fun regardless.

          “So, I’ll be going,” he spoke, almost directly into her mouth, “Unless you want something more?”

         “You know that I do,” she replied, “Meet me up in my room in ten, we’ll need to take different routes there.”

         “See you then, mi’lady” he spoke before walking away. He only ever called her that when they flirted, and the way his voice played with the word made her toes curl.

         “Stay out of trouble Al,” she told the mabari, who continued chewing up her mother's flowers.

         She walked back to her room, taking care not to get caught running. She got there before Braylen. Looking at herself in the mirror took out her long braids, letting her hair fall down her back. She rarely let her hair down, but she loved the feel of it when she did. She took off her shirt as well, carefully unbinding her breasts, enjoying the ability to fully breathe. Her pants still on, she turned to place her daggers in their case, as she did so the door opened. She turned towards the sound to see Braylen walking in with a smile.

         “You know," he said, “If your going to undress you may want to lock the door first.”

         “But then I wouldn’t have you walking in on me,” she replied.

         He walked over to her, pushing her up against the wall. She felt the cold of the stone on her back before she felt the warmth of his kiss on her lips…

* * *

         After a very fun hour later she got up from her bed, with Braylen still lying in it. Walking over to the mirror, Ciara started braiding her dark hair into pigtails, winding up the braids into neat buns on the back of her head. She fixed them in place, the same way her mother's wore her hair. It was about time to see what her father wanted her for. Since Arl Howe was with him, she applied a light amount of make-up; dusting her cheeks with powder and coating her lips carefully. She focused on dusting her eyes with only the lightest amount of grey. She'd learned long ago that a pretty face and a smile were as dangerous as any knife.

         Of course that didn't stop her from hiding an entire arsenal of knives all over her body. She may be safe in the castle, but who knew what would happen. As she slipped the last one into the pouch inside her left boot, she stood up to look at herself in the vanity one last time. Her rich black hair had only a few strands out of place, her reflection stared back at her, with eyes that couldn't decide if they were the grey of storm clouds or the clear blue of sky; Ciara could be either. Picking up her two daggers, she carefully placed them into the sheaths on her back.

         “You look better with nothing on,” Braylen told her from the bed, the sheet barely covering his chest.

         She laughed, before fixing her court-smile onto her face and going off to see her father.


	2. Two Visitors and Two Requests

       She walked in to hear Howe apologizing for the lateness of his men, and her father shrugging it off, before he turned to her and smiled.

       "Sorry, pup, I didn't see you there. Howe you remember my daughter." Bryce Cousland said.

       "I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear." Arl Howe greeted her.

       "And you as well, Arl Howe" she replied, "Is your family here?"

       "Oh no, I left them in Amaranthine, far away from the fighting in the south. My son Thomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time."

       Thomas was the youngest of the Howes. While younger, he was nice enough from what she knew and while it wouldn't be a poor match it would advance her none. However, kindness was usually the best way to handle such things, especially since their families already had good relations.

       "I think that would be a lovely idea,” Ciara said smiling brightly, at the very least it would be entertaining.

       "Good! My son saw you at a Denerin fair and has been talking of you ever since. He'll be please you remember him."

       All she had to do was smile before her father rescued her. If she remembered correctly she's spent that fair convincing a rather vocal elven serving woman with lovely eyes that slipping away from her Orlesian mistress would be worth it, and by the girl’s many moans she was pretty sure she'd delivered.

       "At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle." Her father informed her.

       Ciara bit back her anger and disappointment. There was a battle going on and while dancing around conversations was fun, she hadn't practiced combat in order to sit in at home during a war. But instead of yelling like a petulant child she smiled, looking up at her father and replied.

       "I will make sure everything goes well while you're away then."

       "Now that's what I like to hear. Only a token force is remaining and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about cats when the mouse is away, yes?"

       Ciara nodded, unhappy but still smiling. Those were the words she'd remember for the rest of her life: Always smile.

       "There is also someone else you must meet. Please... show Duncan in."

       Her father turned to the guard and an older man with black hair, a well kept beard and kind face entered as the guard bowed. His armor was ornate and obviously well used, from what she could see the sword and dagger strapped to his back were just as well crafted. His voice was calm as he greeted her father.

       "It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland."

       However, Arl Howe was quick to speak right after and from what Ciara could tell he seemed worried.

       "Your Lordship," he addressed her father, "you didn't mention that a Grey Warden was present."

       "Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced. Is there a problem?" father responded.

       Howe was quick to cover his mistake, smiling as he spoke. "Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am... At a disadvantage."

       Ciara couldn't help but feel there was something more to that however, and made a note to speak to him after her father was done with her.

       "We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person that is true." Her father turned back to her as he spoke, "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Warden are, I hope."

       The Grey Wardens; an order of warriors who were responsible for the end of every blight. However as the last blight was four centuries ago, and the order had dwindled since. It was said that the darkspawn may have even been eradicated during the last blight. However, it would be best to only say the first part, Ciara decided as she smiled.

       "Well meet, Duncan, I've heard the Grey Wardens an order of great warriors."

       "They are the heroes of legend, who defeated the Blights and saved us all. Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore." her father supplied.

       "If I might be so bold, I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate." Duncan said.

       As Ciara smiled to graciously decline, her father stepped in front of her.

       "Honor though that might be, this is my daughter we're talking about."

       Surprised at her father's comment and trying to be diplomatic she reach to touch her father's arm as she apologized to Duncan.

       "Thank you for the praise, however my place is here."

       Her father continued to go off however until Duncan spoke to reassured him. Finally calm again, her father turned back to her.

       "Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone."

       "Of course." she replied, nodding, happy that he'd calmed down.

       "In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me."

       "Any idea where he may be?" She asked.

       "Upstairs in his chambers, no doubt, spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson. Be a good lass as do as I've asked. We'll talk soon."

 

       She turned to Arl Howe before leaving, with the delay of his men and how he'd acted when hearing of Duncan's arrival and wanted to make sure things were okay.

       "I hope the delay with your men is nothing serious." she queried, making sure to add just the right amount of honest concern to her voice.

       "Poor weather, I believe. Their progress has been slow, but it's nothing you need worry about." He spoke calmly.

       She nodded, it was probably nothing after all. As he looked at her expectantly she simply smiled, kindness was key. Kindness could be unnerving in itself if something was truly wrong.

       "Then I just wanted to wish you well, Arl Howe." she spoke.

       "I... Thank you. That is... quite unnecessary." He replied, clearly flustered.

       Something was off with him but considering all that was going on that wasn't surprising. Ciara decided to move on, turning to go find her brother.

 

       When she got to the door in front of the library she was stopped by Ser Gilmore. A young man with ginger hair, decidedly green eyes, and a penchant for informality.

       "There you are! Your mother told me the Teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt." He spoke.

       "Hello to you, too, Ser Gilmore," Ciara said with a true smile dancing playfully across her face.

       He laughed awkwardly before apologizing, "Pardon my abruptness my lady, it's simply that I've been looking everywhere for you. I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar once again. Nan is threatening to leave."

       "She was my nanny and Fergus's before mine. She's won't leave." Her smile staying, as she thought of the old woman.

       "Your mother disagrees. She insists you collect the dog and quickly. You know these mabari hounds. He'll listen to his mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

       "Oh, he knows better than that. Maybe a finger, or a hand but not a whole arm," she teased.

       "I'm not willing to test that. You're quite lucky to have your own mabari war hound, you know. Smart enough not to talk, my father used to say. Of course that means he's easily bored. Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself. At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"

       As much as father may need her to talk to Fergus, Ciara knew it would be better to attend to her mother's wishes first. So she put on a smile and agreed.

       "To the kitchens, then."

       "Just follow the yelling, when Nan's unhappy she makes sure everyone knows it."

       Smiling she headed straight there, the sounds of a barking dog and yelling woman reaching them way before they entered the kitchen.

       Upon opening the door she heard Nan yelling at the two elves who worked with her in the kitchen, Adney and Cath if she wasn’t mistaken. The two were trying their best to do as she said but looking haggard for it. Ser Gilmore tried to calm Nan down only to have her turn on them and start yelling even louder.

       "You! And you!" she spoke, "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

       With anyone else this would be where Ciara would get offended and angry, if any other servant spoke of her Mabari this way they'd be lucky to only get sacked. However she knew Nan, and she knew the woman meant nothing by it. So she took a deep breath and moved to appease the yelling woman.

       "I'm sorry he keeps bothering you, Nan. I'll get him now" she stated calmly, with her arms slightly out and eyes as apologetic as possible.

       As expected, Nan calmed right down once she agreed to help. Turning back to yell at the two terrified elves in the kitchen. Making a note to have them switch to another part of the castle in the near future, Ciara entered the larder to see a very happy mabari war hound. Al barked when seeing her and despite the large mess, it seemed to be more of a there's-something-here bark than an apologetic  I-know-I-made-a-mess bark.

       "Something I should know about boy?"

       He barked and spun around, a very clear yes. And then they were swarmed by giant rats. Quickly drawing her blade, the three of them made quick word of the pests. When the last one was slain, she looked up to hear Ser Gilmore comment of the rats before saying her hound probably wasn't raiding the larder. Al bark in agreement.

       "Of course he wasn't," Ciara fixed the dog with a look "Al knows better than that."

       Al decided this was a very good time to turn away and sniff the floor instead of making eye contact. Probably since he'd raided the larder just last week when she'd been called away by her father and missed a full day of training with him. He'd sulked by chewing up most of her favorite foods in the pantry.

       Ser Gilmore took his leave and as Al and her headed back out as she plastered a smile on her face before she talking to Nan. As soon as they emerged, Nan got down to scolding them. Tired of endlessly apologizing, as soon as Nan stopped ranting Ciara shrugged.

       "Dogs will be dogs," she said, just in time for the elves to notice the rats.

       While Nan chastised Al and he played the victim, Ciara walked over to the two elves in the kitchen.

       "Adney and Cath, right?" she asked them.

       Surprised she knew their names they looked up. To be fair she couldn't tell you most of the guards names, and only a few of the human servants names. But she paid attention to the elves, mostly because no one else did.

       "Yes, mi'lady?" Adney answered still surprised.

       "I'll see if I can get you out of kitchen duty next week. Or at least move you where you won't have to deal with Nan yelling all day." Ciara told them smiling.

       They nodded but didn't say anything else. Since Nan just started yelling at them again, reprimanding Ciara for distracting them. But she could see a glimpse of hope in their eyes, their backs were a little bit straighter and she knew they were on their way to telling her anything they might overhear from unassuming visitors.


	3. A Proposition, and An Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting Lady Landra and her son, Convincing Iona to sleep with her, and saying goodnight to her family

* * *

           Walking back to towards Fergus’s room, Ciara ran into her mother and guests. She recognized Lady Landra and her son Dairren from her mother spring salon but her focus was on the elven woman behind them. She had flaxen hair and the most beautiful blue eyes. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stare at them presently but if she played her part well enough maybe things would work out in her favor.

           Her mother greeted her as she and Al approach. Giving her hound a look, she asked after the situation in the kitchen, which Ciara assured her had been handled. She then half introduced, half prompted her to remember who her guests were, as she looked over at Lady Landra, who to Ciara’s surprise was sober, as far as she could tell.

            “I think we last met at your mother’s spring salon,” Lady Landra said smiling.

            “Of course. It is lovely to see you again, my lady” she replied, forcing a smile back at her, remembering trying to ward off the drunk women last spring.

            “You’re too kind, dear girl. Didn’t I spend half the salon trying to convince you to marry my son?” She replied.

           Well, at least she remembered doing it.

            “And made a very poor case for it, I might add,” Dairren input, only half smiling at his mother.

            “You remember my son, Dairren? He’s not married yet, either.”

           Ciara let out a silent prayer that the woman would not start this again, only to have Dairren save her.

            “Don’t listen to her. It’s good to see you again, my lady. You’re looking as beautiful as ever,” He responded graciously.

            “Thank you,” she responded with a hint of a true smile.

            “And this is my lady-in-waiting, Iona.” Lady Landra spoke, and when Iona didn’t speak immediately afterwards continued, “Do say something, dear.”

           “It is a great pleasure, my lady. You are as pretty as your mother describes.” Iona finally spoke.

           She had a pretty voice, and from what Ciara could tell she might actually have a shot. It would be fun to have a partner for the night, especially since she wasn’t allowed to go off to war with her parents. Her mother had of course turned the compliment into an discussion about marriage and children.

           “I can handle my own affairs, thank you very much” she replied miffed.

It wasn’t her fault that her parents wouldn’t let her go anywhere that a suitable match could be found. Well, one she found suitable.

“All evidence to the contrary,” her mother replied.

           Luckily this ended the conversation, as Lady Landra decided to retire upstairs and Darrien spoke for both himself and Iona saying they’d be going to the study. Before she could turn to follow however her mother spoke to her, informing her what she already knew about telling Fergus good bye. After a brief conversation that informed Ciara, her mother wouldn’t be staying at the castle while she was in charge. She turned to go, only for her mother to stop her.

           “I love you, my darling girl. You know that don’t you?” she said.

           Taken aback by her sudden expression of affection, Ciara frowned.

           “I love you too” she said, reaching out to take her mother’s hands and giving a tight squeeze before letting go.

           “Go do as you must then. I will see you soon,”. 

* * *

 

           Walking back to the study, she entered the alcove she spent most of her off hours in and approached Iona. Upon greeting her, Iona’s first reaction was to compliment Al.

           “That is a wonderful dog! He seems very noble and intelligent,” she said.

           Al barked happily before lying down, contentedly.

           “His name’s Aldenon, after the apostate mage who helped Calenhad unite Ferelden. Though everyone calls him Al.” Ciara told her smiling at the dog.

           “An very nice name,” she replied looking up at Ciara.

           She knew the look, it was a testing one. Iona wasn’t completely sure of her, and with good reason. Deciding it to test the waters, Ciara leaned ever so slightly towards her.

           “You’re quite pretty, if I might say so.”

           “My lady is very kind. Thank you,” Iona replied, and while she didn’t seem not offended or scared by the compliment, she dodged it quite aptly.

           “I haven’t seen many elven ladies-in-waiting,” Ciara supplied in place of a question.

           Luckily enough this prompted Iona to ask a question of her own: “why didn’t she have any ladies-in-waiting?”.

           “If I met someone such as yourself, then I might consider it” she flirted.

           “You are very kind, my lady. I am nobody special… You make me blush,” Iona replied, her cheeks turning a beautiful crimson as she did.

           After a little more prompting, Iona revealed she had a daughter.

           “I bet she has your lovely eyes.”

           “She... does.” Iona admitted, “Many people say she looks a great deal like me. I am the only one who sees her father in her.”

           While at first a concern, Ciara found out the girl’s father had died long before. After a little more coaxing and smiles, Ciara asked if she would be interested in getting better acquainted. While confused at first, Iona didn’t seem opposed so she asked.

           “I was thinking something a little more intimate, later on in my room perhaps?” for the first time Ciara actually spoke her question as one, and was rewarded.

           “I..,” Iona stuttered at first, “I see. I think I might like that.” She walked over till she was directly in front of Ciara. “If I come to your door once everyone is asleep… would that be agreeable, my lady?”

           “Please,” Ciara spoke, a smile covering her entire face, “Call me Ciara.”

           “Until tonight, then, Ciara,” Iona replied, her voice a whisper as she spoke her name.

* * *

 

           Ciara jogged up to her brothers room, her mind focused mainly on Iona and the night she had planned for them. She entered to see her brother talking with his wife and son. She smiled, as usual Oriana was fretting over Oren and Fergus while they both tried to find and make as much trouble as possible.

           “No darkspawn could harm Fergus!” Ciara spoke, smiling at her brother and nephew as her sister in law frowned.

           “He is as mortal as anyone, despite his refusal to believe.”

           “Now, love. No need to be grim.” Fergus responded, they balanced the other so well.

           After speaking to Fergus about his optimistic view on the length of the war, Ciara frowned at him.

           “You will be missed, Fer,” she told him.

           “If it’s any consolation, I’m sure I’ll freeze in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe,” he replied in true Fergus fashion.

           “I am positively thrilled that you will be so miserable, husband,” Oriana tacked on.

           “So, to the reason I came. Father wants you to leave without him.” Ciara finally spoke.

           “Then the Arl’s men are delayed. You’d think his men were all walking backwards,” Fergus sighed as he turned back towards his son and then his wife, “Well, I’d best get underway. So many darkspawn to behead, so little time! Off we go, then. I’ll see you soon, my love.”

           Fergus smiled and preparing to leave before father and mother entered.

           “I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave?” Father said.

           “Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone,” Mother said, her face the picture of concern.

           With a feeling of deep disdain at the mention of daily pray, Ciara tried to smile as she said, “Fergus will be fine, Mother.”

           “I keep telling you, no darkspawn will ever best me,” Fergus added.

           “The Maker sustain and preserve us all. Watch over our sons, husbands, and fathers and bring them safely back to us.” Oriana prayed.

           “And bring us some ale and wenches while you’re at it. Err… for the men, of course.” Fergus added, much to his wife’s chagrin.

           “Fergus!” she reprimanded, “You would say this in front of your mother?”

           “What’s a wench? Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?” Oren asked, the picture of innocence.

           “A wench is a woman that pours the ale in a tavern, Oren,“ Father supplied, “Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale.”

           “Bryce!” Mother scolded, “Maker’s breath, it’s like living with a pair of small boys. Thankfully, I have a daughter.”

           “Of course mother, because I’d never make a joke like that.” Ciara responded, as her brother and father laughed.

           “I’ll miss you, Mother dear.” Fergus spoke while chuckling. “You’ll take care of her, Sister, won’t you?”

           “You’ll need much more care than she will.” I quipped back, “Mother can handle herself. Always has.”

           “It’s true. They should be sending her, not me. She would scold those darkspawn back into the Deep Roads.”

           “I’m glad you find this so funny.” Mother replied, miffed.

           “Enough. Enough.” Father cut in still laughing slightly. “Pup, you’ll want to get an early night. You’ve much to do tomorrow.”

           Instead of heading straight to her room however, Ciara started to talk to Fergus. Only to be cut off by her brother.

           “Getting sent to bed early, are we?” he asked with a smile.

           “I don’t mind,” Ciara spoke with a chuckle, “I have someone waiting for me.”

           “What? You saucy minx!” he said loudly, pretending to be surprised.

           “Fergus! Really!” Oriana chided him.

           “It’s the elven lass that arrived with Lady Landra, isn’t it? Don’t you tell me it isn’t.” he said with a chuckle. “At any rate, I’ll miss you. Take care of everyone, and be here when I get back.”

           When bending down to saying goodnight to Oren, he stopped her.

           “Mama says you’re going to be watching over us while papa is gone. Is that true, Auntie?” he asked.

           “It’s not going to be very exciting, I’m afraid, Oren.”

           “What if the castle is attacked? Will there be dragons?!” he asked excitedly.

           “Dragons are terrible creatures, Oren. They eat people.” his mother tried to tell him.

           Oren simply smiled at her, “Yeah! I want to see one!”

           Oriana turned to glare at her husband, “This is your influence. Fergus.”

           “What? I didn’t say anything.” he replied, feigning innocence.

           “Are you going to teach me to use a sword, Auntie? Then I can fight evil, too! Take that dire bunny! All darkspawn fear my sword of truthiness!” He yelled, swinging an imaginary sword.

           “Truthiness?” Ciara asked to derail the conversation. Oriana had that look in her eye as soon as Oren talked about learning to use a sword and there was no way Ciara was going to test that.

           “We’re teaching him about honesty.” Oriana told her, happy to have the conversation end there.

           “Don’t worry son. You’ll get to see a sword of close see soon, I promise.” added Fergus before his wife could stop him.

           Turning to her see her family once more, she smiled before heading to bed.


	4. The Last Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Ciara's night, and the start of her night with Iona, in non-explict detail, I may write that as a separate piece and link it, until then this is the last chapter before everything falls apart.

           As soon as Ciara got back to her room she relaxed her face, smiling all day was still exhausting. Massaging the sides of her face, she hung her daggers by the bed, within reach if anything was to happen but still out of the way. Sitting down at her armoire, she unpinned her hair. Letting the braids fall down her back as she wiped the makeup off her face, before taking off her leather armor. Oriana and other woman may feel more comfortable wearing form fitting dresses during the day but she only wore them when necessary. They were a completely different type of armor, and when she was finally allowed to the Landsmeet she’d wear them. However while in her home she’d much rather have armor that blocked knives than words.

           Once she’d gotten all the armor off, she unwrapped her breasts from their binding. Taking her first free breath of the day, she finally relaxed. Ciara always forgot how much tension her body held until she was relaxed. Her shoulders were stiff from constantly standing perfectly straight in conversations and her jaw was throbbing from being clenched in a smile all day long. Maybe one day she wouldn't be required to force a smile the entire day, but Ciara certainly didn’t see that happening anytime soon. 

           Taking a night gown out of her dresser, she covered herself in the gossamer Antivan cloth in a blue that complemented her eyes. It did nothing to keep her warm, but it was a nice enough night that she didn't mind. Sitting with her legs crossed on the bed, she reached for her string harp and started to play. Setting upon a song she’d loved as a child, she started to sing.

_ Three little empresses, which of them is true?  _

_ A simple glass of almond tea and now there's only two.  _

_ Two little empresses, which will be undone?  _

_ A dagger from beneath a cloak and now there's only one.  _

_ One little empress child, reaping what was sown,  _

_ Only she knows which she was, and now she's on the throne. _

           She closed her eyes as she played and sang before finally starting on a song she’d be working on recently, a piece about Aldenon and Calenhad. When she started the first verse, Al, who’d been lying at the foot of the bed, perked up. When he fixed her with a look, Ciara quickly moved to protect the harp as the mabari climbed up onto the bed with her. He then sat down and faced her expectantly.

_ Aldenon, the Wise, gave advice to many. _

_ Aldenon, the wise, knew of many things. _

_ For his mind he was admired, _

_ So for magic he was reprieved. _

_ Calenhad was truly pious, _

_ Calenhad would soon be king. _

_ But Aldenon, for freedom fought, _

_ So when the king found templars too, _

_ Instead of seeking only Ash. _

_ Aldenon, himself, withdrew, _

_ And was never seen again... _

           The door creaked and Ciara looked up to see Iona had already slipped into the room and had tried to close the door slowly behind her.

           “Sorry to disturb you, I can go.” Iona said as she turned back.

           “Don’t,” Ciara spoke, placing the harp to the side, she moved towards the elven girl, “Please, stay.”

           She spoke the stay into the girl's mouth as she moved into a kiss. It started sweet, as Ciara brushed her hands lightly across the simple dress. Iona pulled her closer, and Ciara could feel the girl’s back up again the wall. Ciara deepened the kiss, pushing her firmly against the wall as her hands slipped up the girl's dress...

* * *

 

 


	5. Where Everything Went Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara Cousland wakes up to find the castle under attack, and loosing nearly everyone she cares about all in one night

* * *

 

          Ciara woke up to Al barking and growling at the door. Rolling over she found Iona was no longer in bed. Still groggy, she got up to calm the mabari. He’d never woke her up in the middle of the night, and she’d only heard him bark like this once before. So she grabbed her daggers on the way over to him: better safe than sorry.

          “Your hound is making so much noise!” Iona said, “He seems so angry!”

          “Something might be wrong,” Ciara spoke, pulling on shirt and pants, “He doesn’t bark like this unless something dangerous is near.”

          The last time she’d seen Al like this they’d been out hunting deer and wandered into a black bear. Before they’d encountered it however, Al had gotten tense and started barking. Scaring away the deer they’d been going after much to her partner’s ire. But they’d been safe because of him.

          “I thought I heard yelling when I woke up, but now I hear nothing.” Iona said.

          Al continued barking, getting more and more frantic and aggravated every second.

          Ciara had already gotten her full set of armor on, and was now hiding knives in every pouch she had for them. Whatever was happening outside she would be prepared for it. There was no way Aldenon was this worked up for nothing.

          “I’m going to see if someone’s in the hall.” Iona said.

          Before Ciara could stop her, Iona had moved towards the door. No sooner had she started to move then the door was kicked in, and Iona fell, an arrow straight to the heart.

          Ciara had dealt with assassins before, but these didn’t seem to be the sort. Throwing a knife at the same time Aldenon charged, Ciara nailed the first one in the eye. As he crumpled down, Al tore open his throat. Blood spluttered out of the man’s neck as she stared.

          The man behind him froze as the mabari turned towards him. Ciara tore her eyes away from the bleeding man to give the archer a hard kick to the crotch and a prompt dagger to the heart.

          Before she could catch her breath she saw two more men, trying to force their way into her parent’s room. Signaling to Al, he charged them straight on, while she circled around. The mabari took them both by surprise and when they turned to defend themselves Ciara was able to decapitate one before the other started attacking them. She screamed as she stabbed the man in the heart and hot blood squirted into her mouth. The taste of hot metal burned in her throat and she started to heave, nausea taking over she threw up where she stood. Then began checking herself and Al for any injuries. She aimed a hard kick at the man’s head on the floor, adrenaline numbing the pain. Anger would serve her right now, grief wouldn’t. Grief would get her killed.

          “Darling!”

          Ciara looked up to see her mother, surprise followed by relief flooded her face.

          “I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst!” her mother said, “Are you hurt?”

          “I’m okay, but what about you?” she started, looking her mother over, “They didn’t hurt you did they?”

          Her mind was adding it up, her mother was safe. Yes, Iona was dead but she couldn’t think of that. Her mother was safe, that was all that mattered in this moment.

          “They never got through the door, thanks to you.” her mother told her, “A scream woke me up. There were men in the hall, so I barred the door. Did you see their shields? Those are Howe’s men! Why would they attack us?!”

          It was a good question but not one she could entertain right now. What matter was getting her family to safety.

          “I don’t know, Mother, but the most important thing right now is getting out of here alive.”

          “Have you seen your father?” He never came to bed!”

          “No. I haven’t.”

          “We must find him!”

          “We will. We need to get out of here as fast as possible, let’s check on Oriana and Oren. Then we can all get to safety.”

          “Andraste’s mercy! What if the soldiers went into your brother’s room first?” her mother said, “Let’s check on them! Quickly! Then we’ll look for Bryce downstairs!”

          Ciara hadn't ever actually prayed to the Maker. She'd learned the words and spoke them when it was expected of her but as far as she was concerned, he’d stopped caring about this world long before she was born. But upon mention of the danger to her nephew and sister in law she forgot all that, and let out a silent heart-felt prayer: let them be alright, for Fergus’s sake, for her mother’s and for her own.

          She opened the door to her brother’s room to see what little was left of her faith lay dead on the floor. Oren and Oriana were together on the flor, blood pooling around them. Tears burned in her eyes, as she remembered holding Oren as a baby, laughing at how his eyes were the same grey blue as hers. Now they were clouded over, unseeing. The training she’d promised she’d do with him when his mother wasn’t around. The years he and his mother would have had. All gone.

          “Why?” was all she could say, “Why would they do this?”

          She was on her knees already and notice her mother bending down.

          “How is not even talking hostages!” her mother said, “He means to kill all of us! Oh poor Fergus...”

          Fergus! Even if mother and she escaped, how was she going to explain this to him. How could she find the words to tell him? She couldn’t even find the words to explain to herself, even with the bodies right in front of her.

          “Let’s go.” Her mother spoke, “I don’t want to see this!”

          Ciara nodded, leaving, now. That would be best. They still needed to get out of here and this was doing them no good.

          They walked out of her brother’s room and Ciara shut the door. Heading into her room, she doned her armor. While her mother had already had the time to equip herself she'd been fighting in her now blood soaked Antivan dress. One done she reached down to the bodies of the Howe soldiers she’d already killed, searching them in a daze. They went back to her parents room to search the trunk of her parents things, and Ciara made sure to grab her money from her dresser. Who knows where they would end up after this.

 

          Before leaving the hallway that connect her family’s rooms, she listened at the door to hear footsteps on the other side. Her mother readied her bow, Ciara gripped her daggers tightly as she opened the door and Aldenon charged in first. With her mother shooting covering fire, and Al tearing up everything in sight, Ciara took out each man systematically, making sure to keep her mouth shut while doing so, the acrid taste of bile still in her mouth from last time. When everything was over she searched the bodies, opening another door to see Lady Landra was also dead, she forced herself to keep moving. Left foot, right foot, left foot. Just keep walking forward. Her mother stopped her before they got far however.

          “Can you hear the fighting? Howe’s men must be everywhere.”

          “What should we do now?” Ciara asked.

          “The front gate! That’s where your father must be.”

          “Is there nothing else?”

          Ciara was getting more scared the longer they talked. She hadn’t been in a true fight in her life before, where one misstep spelled death. The reality was sobering. Her desire to join the army in Ostagar, to fight alongside her brother and father had evaporated as soon as she’d seen the arrow pierce Iona’s chest. She may have tried not to see it, but she could still remember the look of surprise caught on the elf girl’s face, and the light leaving those beautiful eyes.

          “I have my treasury key. We could go there first and take the Cousland sword from the vault.”

          “A sword, mother?”

          “If anything is worth fighting to keep out of Howe’s ands, it’s that sword. But it may be a dangerous path.”

          “Every path is a dangerous one now, mother” Ciara spoke, laughing nervously, “Let’s head to the treasury first then.”

          “If Howe’s men are inside, they must already control the castle. We must use the servants’ entry in the larder to escape. Do you hear me?”

          “Yes.”

          “Then let us be swift.” 

 

          Walking down to the treasury, they came across a serving man running for his life.

          “The castle is fallen! I’m getting out of here.” he called out to them.

          “Don’t be a coward, man! Stand and fight!” She spoke out, all of those forced smiles coming together as she stared down this man, ordering him to do what she herself was terrified of.

          “Y-yes, my lady” he stuttered, “Here… here they come!”

          They dispatched the men quickly, checking to see if there was anything of use they continued on the the treasury. Opening the door with her mother’s key, she took the sword, trading it out for her right hand dagger. The weight and balance were nice, and if they were to bring this sword with them, it would help them escape.

          After dispatching more of Howe’s men they made it to the main gate, where the true battle was going on, and Ciara got her first taste of fighting against magic. The battle was large and on the far side was a mage, doing massive damage to her guards and supporting Howe’s men. She didn’t know or care how the elven mage got there, but she knew how many battles were defined not by strong men, but by smart tactics. Something mages were good at, but she'd read more on strategy than anyone she knew. Moving around the battle she attacked the mage from behind. As she’d been told the amount of straight on damage the woman could take was small. Once Ciara had pierce the woman’s heart the battle turned quicking in their favor. As soon as all the enemies were dead Ser Gilmore’s voice rang out.

          “My Ladyship! My lady! You’re both alive! I was certain Howe’s men had gotten through!”

          “Have you seen my father?” Ciara asked trying, wiping blood off her cheek only to end up smearing it.

          “He was looking for you two. He told us to hold the hall as long as possible. When I realized what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. But they won’t keep Howe’s men out long! If you’ve another way out of the castle, use it quickly!”

          “We need to find my father!” she yelled louder, over the sounds of the banging on the gate, as it slowly broke down.

          “When I last saw the teyrn, he’d been badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you. He went towards the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants’ exit in the larder.”

          “Bless you, Ser Gilmore.” her mother spoke, “Maker watch over you!”

          “Maker watch over us all!” he replied, and Ciara could hear the despair in his voice as he turned back to a battle he couldn’t hope to win, all to protect her mother and her.

 

          She ran to the kitchen, cutting down every man who stood in her way. Her mind gone red with anger and pain. She needed to find her father. She needed to keep her mother safe. Those two thoughts propelled her forward. Upon entering the larder she saw the bodies of Adney and Cath in a corner, they'd been butchered. Tearing herself away she turned towards the larder door. She opened it to see her father on the floor, in a pool of his own blood. The images of Oren's and Oriana's bodies flashed into her mind before she cold pushed them back down.

          “There… you both are.” he was able to wheeze out. “I was… wondering when you would get here.”

          “Bryce!” her mother cried out.

          They both ran to him. Sinking down to his side, Ciara tried to help, her hands becoming slick from her father’s blood. She felt faint. How could this have happened.

          “Maker’s blood, what’s happening? You’re bleeding” her mother exclaimed.

          “Howe’s men… found me first. Almost… did me in right there.”

          “We need to get you out of here!” Ciara spoke, reaching towards her father.

          “I... I won’t survive the standing, I think.” her father spoke, shaking his head.

          “They’ll we’ll drag you out with us,” Ciara said, and started to look for something to carry him with.

          “Only… if you’re willing to leave pieces of me behind, pup.” he replied.

          “Bryce! This is no time for jokes!” her mother yelled, “Once Howe’s men break through the gate, they will find us! We must go!”

          “Someone… must reach Fergus… tell him what has happened.”

          No. Ciara wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. Tears swelled in her eyes as she looked at her father.

          “You’ll tell him yourself dad. We’ll get out of this. We all will.”

          “I… wish that were true.” her father said before groaning in pain, the amount of blood on the floor was increasing far too fast.

          “Bryce, no! The servant's passage is right here! We can flee together, find you healing magic!” her mother spoke, tears trailing down her face now as well.

          “The castle is surrounded…” he spoke, “I cannot make it.”

          Just like that the world shattered, everything that once made sense was gone. Her father was dying right in front of her. She’d seen a girl slaughtered in front of her, and found the corpses of her nephew and sister-in-law lying in her brother’s room. This must be a dream, a terrible horrible nightmare. But she wasn’t waking up! How was she supposed to wake up!

          “I’m afraid the teyrn in correct. Howe’s men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult.” Duncan spoke beside her.

          When had he arrived?

          “You are… Duncan, then? The Grey Warden?” her mother spoke.

          Why did it matter? It wouldn't save her father.

          “Yes, your Ladyship. The teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner.”

Maybe then, he could have saved Iona, and Oren, and Oriana. But they didn’t, and she hadn’t either.

          “My daughter helped me get here. Maker be praised.” her mother spoke.

          Yes, praise the Maker. He turned his back on his people and on this world. He allowed this to happen, and did nothing. Ciara stared at her mother, how could she praise him.

          “I am not surprised.” Duncan spoke to her.

          Ciara couldn’t look into those kind eyes right now. She couldn’t look at anything but the blood on her hands and on the floor.

          “Are you going to help us?” she asked dully.

          How could he help, her father was dying right in front of her and no one could stop it.

          “Whatever is to be done now, it must be quick! They are coming!” her mother yelled.

          Why was she yelling? Couldn’t she tell it didn’t matter anymore.

          “Duncan… I beg you... Take my wife and daughter to safety!” her father called from the floor.

          Yes, she was supposed to protect her mother. She needed to protect her family.

          “I will, your Lordship. But… I fear I must ask for something in return.” Duncan said

          “Anything!” her father cried.

          He shouldn’t be talking, it was making his wound bleed faster.

          “What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one.”

          “I… I understand.”

          What? What did father understand? What were they talking about? A recruit? Duncan had mentioned recruiting her yesterday. It felt like a lifetime ago. Did they mean her?

          “Are you talking about me?” she asked, finally looking Duncan.

          He was covered in as much blood as she was, maybe more, and his blades on his back were still crimson.

          “You fought your way to me through Howe’s men. I think the Maker’s intention is clear.” Duncan replied, before turning to her father “I will take the teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the king what happened. Then, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens.”

          The Grey Wardens? She’d never even considered it for her, not even as a child. It was her brother who wanted to ride griffons and fight battles. She was much more interested in stories of Orlesian royalty and what they called The Game. She was never going to join a hopeless cause such as the Grey Wardens, her duty was to her family, her name.

          “So long as justice comes to Howe… I agree.” her father said.

          “Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens. Fight with us.” Duncan spoke to her.

          Ciara froze. No. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to turn out. She looked to her father, clutching his side as his blood kept seeping out. Her father was dying, her nephew and sister-in-law had died, what if her brother died too. It hadn’t been long, but the battle she was just in terrified her. How could anyone survive a true war.

          “What if Fergus is dead too?” she whimpered, “Howe might have something planned, war is never certain.”

          “We will inform the king, and he will punish Howe. I am sorry, but a Grey Warden’s duties take precedence even over vengeance.” Duncan answered her instead.

          But she wasn’t a Grey Warden, those weren’t her duties!

          “Howe thinks he’ll use the chaos to… advance himself. Make him wrong, pup. See that justice is done!” her father spoke to her, as she stared into his eyes as clear as a summer sky. “Our family… always does our duty first. The darkspawn must be defeated. You must go. For your own sake, and for Ferelden’s.”

          Duty. Her duty was to her family and that duty was what required she join the Wardens, she nodded to her father.

          “Then I will, Father. For our family and for you.”

          “We must leave quickly, then.” Duncan spoke rising.

          “Bryce, are you… sure?” her mother finally spoke.

          “Our daughter will not die of Howe’s treachery. She will live, and make her mark on the world.”

          “Darling, go with Duncan.” her mother told her, “You have a better chance to escape without me.”

          Leave her mother here? To die with her father! No she couldn't do that! She wouldn't do that!

          “Eleanor,” her father started.

          “Hush, Bryce. I’ll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won’t abandon you.”

          Ciara stared at her parents. Her father held himself up as best he could but the wound was getting worse by the second. Her mother’s face was set and determined. It was the face she wore whenever she had made up her mind, when nothing would change it. Tears finally started flowing down Ciara’s face, blurring everything in her vision.

          “I love you both,” so spoke through the tears, “so very much.”

          “Then live, darling. Become a Grey Warden, and do what is right.” her mother told her.

          “I’m… so sorry it’s come to this, my love…” her father said, gasping for breath between words, the pain evident on his face.

          “We had a good life and did all we could,” her mother spoke, holding her father close, “It’s up to our children, now.”

          “Then…” her father turned his head to her, “go, pup. Warn your brother. And know that we love you both. You do us proud.”

          She couldn’t see through the tears as Duncan pulled her up and away from her parents.

          “They’ve broken through the gates. We must go now.” he spoke.

          As she turned to run she hear her mother’s last words to her, “Goodbye, darling.”

          “Goodbye.” She said, her back already turned as she ran with Duncan.

          But towards what end she was no longer sure.


	6. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara deals with the death of her parents, nephew and sister-in-law, and the loss of everything she ever knew on the trip to Ostagar, negative thinking and depressive thought trigger warning

* * *

         Ciara didn’t remember much of what happened at the castle after she’d left her parents. She remembered doing what Duncan told her, killing as many of Howe’s men as she could, before be being pulled away. She remembered something about yelling and charging, something about almost getting them caught. It was a twenty-day trek to Ostagar from Highever, and Duncan needed to get there as soon as possible. So they march.

         After the fight, she lost nearly all of her energy. It was all she could do to get up and walk on a schedule, and if Duncan hadn’t required it, she wouldn’t have done even that. For days she didn’t talk, and she barely slept. Every night when she’d lay down, she saw their faces: Iona, Oren, Oriana, her mother and father. The worst dream was this one which started happy. Everyone was smiling and sitting together. Then Iona would turn to her, and she would no longer be smiling. An arrow would pierce her chest and blood would come gushing out of the wound.

         “You let this happen to me,” she’d speak, with blood flowing out her mouth, before she fell over, cold and dead.

         Then Ciara would turn to see Oren and Oriana, both bleeding from multiple stab wounds.

         “It hurts Auntie,” Oren would cry to her, “you were supposed to be watching over us while father was away...”

         “You let this happen,” Oriana would accuse her, “You let us die. We trusted you to protect us.”

         At first she’d try to help them, but every time the dream came it was the same. She was paralyzed. Unable to move a muscle, she watched them bleed to death in front of her. Then came the worst part, her parents’ deaths. She watched from the side of the larder as her father bleed to death on the floor. Her mother shooting arrow after arrow at the oncoming men. Then everything would slow down and her parents would turn to face her.

         “You could have saved me,” her father would tell her, as he coughed up blood.

         “You left us to die,” her mother would say.

         She would wake up in a cold sweat. Unable to sleep for the rest of the night, she’d simply hold onto Aldenon; he was her anchor in all of this. The only other thing that survived. That and a useless sword. She’d wanted to throw the sword away, launch it off a cliff. But she didn’t. She kept it close as a reminder. It wasn’t the only useless thing to survive that night. Eventually she tried not sleeping at all. She’d sit up with Al on watch all night, even when Duncan said she should go to bed. Of course she couldn’t stay awake forever, and eventually she’d fall back asleep, and wake up from another nightmare.

         Her only comfort left was Aldenon. Like a true mabari he understood everything that was going on. Probably better than she did. He spent every second with her, awake or asleep, making sure she was okay. Whenever she woke up from a nightmare, he’d be there. She’d lean against him, with dry eyes, feeling his presence: firm and strong. At least he was still with her.

         Besides making sure they traveled on a schedule, Duncan didn’t pressure her for anything. When they’d left the castle he’d apologized about her family, and since then he’d accepted her silence. He knew she wasn’t okay and simply made sure she didn’t get any worse: making her eat at least a little each day, and making sure they at least stopped for the night. Ciara would have walked till she fell down if she’d been allowed to.

         The longer they traveled and farther they got from Highever the worse she felt. It was her fault for not saving her family. She should have woken up earlier and protected Oren and Oriana. They had been depending on her. Her parents had died for her sake, and she didn’t deserve their sacrifice. She should have stayed, made sure they’d gotten out together or not at all.

         It was the middle of the eighth day traveling; they were supposed to reach Lake Calenhad docks that night. She’d been focusing on her feet: left foot, right foot, left foot. One step at a time towards their destination. Finally, she looked up to see that Aldenon was no longer in front of her. She looked around frantically. Unable to see him anywhere, she couldn’t breathe. Heaving in short gasping breaths she fought for air. Something had happened to him! He’d gotten hurt, or attacked. He might even be dead, like her family. Like everyone else. She was kneeling on the ground, throwing up what little food she’d been able to stomach that day, when finally appeared in front of her. She clung to him tightly and refused to let go, as she tried to to calm her ragged breaths.  He licked her face, whining apologetically.

         “I’m so sorry,” she said to him, the tears starting to fall “It’s all my fault.”

         She tried to wipe them away. She hadn’t cried since she’d left her parents behind at the castle and now she couldn’t stop. She tried to get up and keep walking but after a few steps she had to sit back down again. The tears were coming faster and harder, her breaths becoming ragged as her nose started to drip. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop. She just kept repeating the words as the tears ran down her face.

         “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I’m so so sorry.”

         Over and over again, she said them: to Aldenon, to Duncan, to her parents if they were at the Maker’s side or not. To Oren, so small and ambitious. He’d had his entire life ahead of him only to have it all taken away. To Fergus, he’d been counting on her to protect their family, and she’d failed him. Duncan eventually brought her food, but she couldn’t bear to eat it.

Curling up with Aldenon, she cried as silently as she could. Finally, long after the sun had gone down, her tears stopped. She felt empty. Everything she’d ever wanted was back in that castle. Everything she had was gone. Everyone she loved was dead. But she was still here, and she remembered why.

         “I’m going to become a Grey Warden,” she said, the words foreign on her tongue.

        As alien as the idea was, it was the first calming though she’d had since she’d gone to sleep that night. So long ago, when she felt safe in her bed. Grey Wardens were great heroes. It’s what her parents wanted for her in the end: to become a Grey Warden and do what was right. With that thought she fell asleep and for the first time since Highever castle, she slept through the night.

        She woke up at dawn, feeling rested for the first time in ages, her hands went to her hair. It had gotten ragged over the days she’d done nothing with it. Her braids were nearly gone and her hair was in complete disarray, knotted in several places. She took her hair out of the braid and started combing it through her hands, until there were no more knots. Separating the left and right, she did her hair back into two braids and twisted them up in the way her mother always wore them. Feeling a sense of connection along with the guilt; her mother wanted this for her.

        Next she removed her clothes, for the first time since leaving the castle. The nights before she’d just stayed in her armor all day and all night. Undoing her armor, she took a piece of cloth and wiped down her skin with water. As she cleaned away the sweat, dirt and long dried blood, she started to feel better, if not emotionally at least physically. She cleaned the leather before getting dressed again, properly binding her breasts this time. The hiking would no longer hurt her chest as it had before.

         Duncan brought over food, and while she still had no appetite, she forced herself to eat a full meal that morning. She’d already finished packing before breakfast, they cleared camp and made good time through the rest of the trip.

         The farther they got from Highever the more of Ciara Cousland she left behind. She was no longer the girl who aspired to an important and easily swayed husband. Grey Warden could hold no titles and own no land, and that’s what Ciara was headed towards. She may have failed her duty to her family, she may not have, but she was leaving it behind. Every step left it farther in the past. Her duty was to the Grey Wardens. As she approached the ruins of Ostagar, she’d finally started feeling like a person again. Maybe not herself, but someone similar, someone stronger.


	7. A Royal Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Upon arriving at Ostagar, Duncan and Ciara are greeted by the King of Ferelden

* * *

        Upon her arrival at Ostagar, a man she hadn’t expected to see approached them. In stunning gold armor, his golden hair flashed as brightly as his smile as he greeted them.

        “Ho’ there Duncan,” the man said.

        “King Cailan?” Duncan spoke surprised, “I didn’t expect a-”

        “A royal welcome? A was beginning to worry you’d miss all the fun!”

        King Cailan was as enthusiastic and as young, as she’d heard. If he wasn’t already married… But that was another life, and not one she’d get back.

        “Not if I could help it, your Majesty,” Duncan responded.

        “Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious! The other Wardens told me you’d found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?”

        “Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty.”

        “No need, Duncan. You are Bryce’s youngest, are you not? I don’t think we’ve ever actually met.”

        While her fantasy of having the king fall in love with her, and the current queen having the most unfortunate accident; leaving her to become the most powerful woman in all of Ferelden, were a thing of the past she couldn’t help the court-ready smile that appeared on her face.

        “Yes, your majesty. My name is Ciara.” she said, with a proper curtsy.

        “Your brother has already arrived with Highever’s men, but we are still awaiting your father.” he informed her.

        Fergus. The mention of him threatened to break her mending heart. He still didn’t know what had happened.

        “My father isn’t coming, your majesty. He died when our castle was overtaken,” she said, trying to maintain her now fragile smile.

        “Dead?! What do you mean?” the King asked, “Duncan, do you know anything about this?”

        “Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, your Majesty.” Duncan answered for her, “Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished.”

        “I,” the king started, “can scarcely believe it! How could he think he would get away with such treachery! As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice. You have my word.”

        At that, Ciara felt a weight lift off her shoulders., “Thank you, your Majesty.”

        “No doubt you wish to see your brother. Unfortunately, he and his men are scouting in the Wilds.”

        No, she didn’t want to see her brother. She didn’t want to have to explain what had happened to their parents, to his wife and son. She wanted to run away to the Grey Wardens and not look back. But life didn’t seem to want to give her that opportunity.

        “I am not eager to tell him, your Majesty.” she finally spoke.

        “Of that, I have no doubt. You will see him again once the battle is over. I am certain. I apologize but there is nothing more I can do. All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being.”

        “Thank you, your Majesty,” she said, meaning the words.

        “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.”

        Loghain was here then. She’d heard the Teyrn of Gwaren was here but she hadn’t expected to hear the King speak of him, especially not in such a tone as he now took. Loghain was known to be a master strategist, and while Ciara would find hearing his plans for the war fascinating, she could now understand what people said about the king. Young and carefree weren’t always the best traits in a leader, especially during war, where men would live or die by his decisions.

        “Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.” Duncan informed the king.

        Cailan’s uncle? Duncan must be referring to Arl Eamon of Redcliffe.

        Cailan laughed, “Eamon just wants in on the glory. We’ve won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different.”

        From what she’d heard the Arl was a wise man, she doubted he was at all interested in glory. Glory was something children and kings fought over. If they had won three battles maybe, it was as her brother had said: just a large raid. However, Duncan seemed to think it was much more than that. She didn’t think he would have had them rush here otherwise.

        “I didn’t know the war was going so well,” Ciara said, trying to prompt the king for more information.

        “I’m not even sure this is a true Blight. There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.” Cailan replied.

        “Disappointed, your Majesty?” Duncan asked.

        “I’d hoped for a war like in the tales! A King riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god!”

        As she’d suspected, Cailan was rather idealistic about glory and heroes. He’d must have been told too many grandiose children’s stories growing up, if he wanted a large scale battle but refused his uncle’s men. He was putting a lot of faith in the Grey Wardens and himself. Hopefully Loghain was as good at tempering the king as she’d heard, otherwise...

        “But I suppose this will have to do. I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell. Grey Wardens!”

        The king finally departed with his bodyguards, leaving Ciara and Duncan to talk.

        “What the king said is true. They’ve won several battles against the darkspawn here,” Duncan said.

        “Yet, you still sound concerned.”

        Duncan gestured towards were the King had headed and they started walking.

        “Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this. But I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling...”

        “What would you have him do?” she asked.

        “Wait for reinforcements. We sent a call out west to the Grey Wardens of Orlais, but it will be many days before they can join us. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay.”

        “What do you need from me?”

        “Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being. There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him it’s time to summon the other recruits. Your hound can stay with me while I attend to some business.”

        Ciara froze at the thought of being separated from Al, sensing that he let out a loud whine. Pushing himself between Duncan and her, he fixed the Warden with a stare that said all too plainly, he wasn’t leaving her side.

        “Or, he will stay with you, then. The Grey Warden tent is on the other side of this bridge. You will find me there, should you need to.”

        With that he left, Ciara looked around at the ruin surrounding her and Al. Stroking the mabari’s head she made a promise to herself and to him.

        “I will not fall apart like that again.”

        She headed into camp with her head held as high as she could muster. She would figure out what was going on around camp and then seek out the warden Duncan had mentioned: Alistair, if she remembered correctly.


	8. Exploring Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara meet the people and gathers information. She first meets and questions the the king's bodyguard, then Teyrn Loghain's bodyguard. Finally, she meets the Teyrn himself. After leaving them she goes in search of mages, where she meets Wynne who confirms her idealized views of mages.

* * *

        She crossed the giant bridge that Duncan and the King had headed across before her, reaching a man on the other side who greeted her and was able to give directions. After getting a general understanding of where everything was, she asked for the specifics on the King’s tent and the circle of Magi, getting some more information on both before heading out.

Even if she was to be a Grey Warden, she couldn’t help but wander over to the tents' of King Cailan and Teyrn Loghain. She may no longer be living life as a noble, but these men would decide the fate of the upcoming battle. and many more to come. Knowing as much about them as she could was still in her best interests. She walked over to the guard in front of the King’s tent, smiling her most persuasive smile.

“Greetings,” said the guard, “King Cailan is not in his tent right now.”

All the better. Information was easier to get when the object was away, and she’d already met the king.

“Do you know where he might be?” Ciara prompted.

“I believe he’s with the Grey Wardens in camp, drinking. He holds them in high regard, you know, as his father did.”

The man seemed rather lax, the type of optimist with a simple world view and a soft spot for flattery.

“Could you tell me any more about the king?” she prompted with a smile, “You must see him quite often.”

“I suppose I do, though he’s spending most of his time with the Grey Wardens. He rides with them everywhere they go, in fact. Teyrn Loghain sees the king whenever he can and argues with him over coming battles, but the king just waves him off. The king wants to end the Blight with a single huge battle the bards will sing of for centuries. Do you think that’s possible?”

“I have my doubts,” she replied.

If the horde truly did outnumber the men here, as Duncan had told her, then a large scale battle could be suicidal. Regardless, a large scale battle wouldn’t change things in their favor: the larger the battle the worse the body count was, on both sizes, and if their army was smaller the end result would be much worse for them than for the darkspawn.

“That’s how the teyrn feels. He’ll do what the king wants in the end, though. The king thought it was funny the teyrn called him reckless. And they fought about the queen.”

“The queen?” she asked as innocently as possible.

“She’s the teyrn’s daughter. He wasn’t happy about something she did or the king did… I’m not sure. I probably shouldn’t discuss it.”

“Thank you for your time, then” she said before departing.

She smiled as she walked away, the man was a talker, and had confirmed the number of theories she already had. Cailan was impulsive, with an excess of confidence, no care for planning, and a very romanticized idea of heroes, which he saw in the Grey Wardens and in himself. Those ideals could easily get a lot of people killed, if they weren’t kept in check. Luckily, they had Teyrn Loghain. Ciara had heard about him many times before; the strategist who won Maric the war against the Orlesians. And, she guessed, the man behind the current throne. The more she heard about them, the more that suspicion seemed true. Speaking of which, the teyrn’s tent was right across from Cailan’s, and his bodyguard was stationed right outside. Fixing a smile across her face, she walked over to the man.

“You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain. State your business,” the man said.

Blight! This one was a proper knight, unlike the king’s bodyguard. Though she supposed that made sense; people tended to like people similar to them. Well, she’d play the fool first, and see where that got her. Austere people might not give out information when questioned, but they could lecture for days, especially if they thought less of the person they were talking too.

“Can you tell me about Teyrn Loghain?” she asked him, smiling and doing her best to seem clueless. It worked flawlessly.

“How can you not know of Loghain? He helped free Ferelden. He was the brains behind King Maric’s armies and drove out those damned Orlesians. King Maric rewarded him by making him a teyrn. Can you imagine? A commoner became a high nobleman just like that.”

While it had been hard for her to grasp before, from the comfort of Highever Castle, her view was unfortunately clearer now. And if she could go from being in a position of such power to a warden with nothing, the reverse must also be possible. Life was fickle that way.

“Without Loghain, you can bet the king wouldn’t be winning against these darkspawn.” he finished.

While not as open as the first guard, the man did like to talk. Though for him it was more boasting. He respected Loghain and as the man’s bodyguard listing the man’s accomplishments made him feel powerful by association. She knew the type.

“I was just wondering if the teyrn was inside,” she asked, “and if you knew what he was doing?”

“He’s inside, but... I don’t think it’s my place to discuss his activities.” the man replied hesitantly.

“You could at least tell me a little bit more about him?” she asked, “I mean, given all you know.”

“I suppose… as long as we talk quietly. He and the king have been arguing for days. The teyrn’s know the king since he was swaddled, so they don’t stand on ceremony. The teyrn speaks his mind, and the king yells right back. Personally, I think the king should do what Teyrn Loghain tells him. Without the teyrn, we wouldn’t be doing as well here as we are.”

“Would it be possible for me to have an audience with the teyrn?” she asked, “I have news from Highever which could provide useful to him.”

The man considered before agreeing, “I suppose if you have a message for him. Hold on, then…”

She waited. Loghain was in the position she’d one day hoped to have, and now never would. However, getting to know the man or at least meeting him would be good. She could not only put a face to the name but secondhand accounts weren’t always accurate. A haggard looking man with hair the same dark black as hers exited the tent, to greet her.

“Yes, what is it? Ah, you are Duncan’s new Grey Warden, I assume,” the man spoke.

“Yes, my name is Ciara.”

“Cailan’s fascination with the Wardens goes beyond the ordinary. Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?”

The way he said it betrayed his own opinions on the wardens. As high of an esteem as the king may hold them in, Loghain seemed to hold opposite sentiments.

“I have heard that, yes” she responded, keeping her responses as short as possible. The less she said, the less she could give away.

“Maric respected the Grey Wardens. They have an honored place in the hearts of our people. But Maric would have understood that it takes more than legends to win a battle. That’s not an argument I’ll repeat here.”

So it wasn’t so much the Grey Warden’s themselves, but Cailan’s trust in them he disliked. It made sense after all. It was that idealism in the king that was likely to get many people killed.

“You look familiar.” Loghain continued, “Have I seen you at the Landsmeet?”

“You must be thinking of my father. He was the teyrn of Highever,” the past tense turning a knife in her heart.

“The king told me of his promise. I am certain he has every intention of following it through.”

It was good to hear that from such a man. The king may make promises easily, but it was Loghain that was most likely responsible for delivering on them.

“I don’t suppose you’ll be riding into the thick of things with the rest of your fellows, will you?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, her stomach turning at the thought of such a large battle.

“If Cailan has his way, you will. Now I must return to my task. Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you’re the praying sort.”

It was then Ciara decided to push slightly, giving a drop of an opinion, in order to pull out more of his.

“You don’t seem very fond of the king.”

“He is Maric’s son and leader of my beloved Ferelden. And a very young man. I try to keep that in mind, as should you.”

She left the conversation with nearly all her suspicions confirmed, and a new appreciation for Loghain. Wandering around she couldn’t help but wander towards the Maji encampment, still extremely curious. All she’d heard of mages was stories both fantastic and terrifying: nearly all of the stories focused on Tevinter, Andraste and the Chantry. So she assumed most of the stories, were just that, stories. The Chantry trying to keep control through fear. Demon’s weren’t really trying to take over every single mage, at every single second. The Templars weren’t protecting the common people, just keeping the Chantry in power. It always came down to power in the end, and mages had a lot of it naturally; thus people without magic and with power decided mages needed to be locked up.

As she approached the mages, she was stopped by Templars, in the large unwieldy armor they always wore.

“I’m sorry,” the one on the right spoke, not sorry at all, “but the mages must not be interrupted.             

As she tried to get closer anyway the next one stopped her.

“The mages must not be interrupted; their spirits are in the Fade.”

“The Fade?” she asked, trying to peek around him.

“The Fade is the realm of dreams and the land of the dead. Or so the mages tell us.” he said, “Regardless, they are not to be disturbed. Not even by Grey Wardens.”

“Understood, I’ll go elsewhere then.”

She may have tried to sneak around them if she hadn’t seen an older woman standing nearby, in what looked to be a mage’s robe. Ciara walked over to her, walking slowly and staying in control as best she could, despite her excitement.

“Greetings, young lady, you are Duncan’s newest recruit, are you not? He’s not a man easily impressed. You should be proud.”

“Are you really a mage?” Ciara blurted out.

She couldn’t help it, covering her mouth, she felt like a child accidentally butting in on one of her father’s important conversations and saying something stupid. The woman smiled however, and continued talking.

“Allow me to introduce myself, I am Wynne. And yes, I am one of the mages summoned by the king.”

“I am Ciara,” she replied quickly, “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Well met, and good luck to you on the battlefield. To us all, in fact.”

With Aldenon at her side, she couldn’t help but think back to his namesake, and found herself trying, abet indirectly, to find Wynne’s opinions of the king.

“King Cailan seems to think the battle will go well.”

“The king must always seem confident. His behavior affects the troops’ morale. He does seem to find his enthusiasm easily, though. Reminds me of a puppy, and I say that with both respect and affection. He is a fine man.”

Ciara couldn’t help but stare, this is the wisdom of mages’ that she’d heard so much about. However, Wynne continued talking.

“To defeat the darkspawn, we have to work together. It’s not an idea everyone seems able to grasp.”

“You’ve faced darkspawn before?” she asked, honestly curious.

“Stragglers, yes… not the vast horde the scouts speak of. I wonder… how much do you know of the connection between darkspawn and the Fade?”

“If I remember correctly the Chantry blames Tevinter and mages for creating darkspawn… and the Fade is the place you go when you dream.”

“Any time your spirit leaves your earthly body, whether it’s to dream or to die, it passes into the realm we call the Fade. It’s home to many spirit, some benevolent, others far less so. At the heart of the Fade lies the Black City.”

“Sounds ominous, something bad happened there didn’t it.” she said.

“Some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker. But when mages of the Tevinter Imperium found a way into the City, it was tainted with their sin. That taint transformed those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts. And the Maker cast them back to earth, where they became the first darkspawn. At least, that’s what the Chant of Light says.”

“The Chantry says a lot of things,” she said with a sigh.

She hated the long stories of the Chantry; saying things were true just because it taught a lesson or kept someone in power or out of power.

“It may be allegory, meant to teach us that our own evil causes human suffering. Or it may be true. It is as good an explanation as any, for now.”

“I’ll just stick to killing every darkspawn I see,” she said, “Though who knows, maybe I’ll get into a philosophical discussion with one, someday. Until then, I’ll stick to stabbing.”

“A wise attitude. It’s worked well for me in the past. But I’m certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me.”

Leaving Wynne with starry eyes, and a reinforced view on mages and the chantry. She sold the stuff she didn’t need to the Quartermaster, buying an extra backpack while she was there. Then headed towards what she thought was an argument.


	9. Their First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara mets Alistair

* * *

         Ciara headed up past the Quartermaster, farther into the ruin where she heard yelling. There she was meet with a mage yelling at a young man around her age.

         “What is it now?” the mage asked, “Haven’t Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?”

         Ciara was now very happy to have met Wynne first, this man was nothing she’d expected in a mage. He seemed extremely irritable and with his inability to keep that in check, he must be dumb witted as well. She had an instinctual desire to punch him in the face. Of course, she was smart enough to know that was irrational and wore a forced smile on her face instead. The other man was young, with well kept blonde hair. He also had, a what looked to be a templar emblem on the back of his shield, no wonder the mage was pissed. The blonde man didn’t hold himself like any of the Templars she’d seen however, and with the comment the mage had made, he was probably a Grey Warden.

         “I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage. She desires your presence.”

         Ciara had to restrain herself from shaking her head. This man had been roped straight into the mage chantry conflict and he didn’t even seem concerned over it.

         “What her Reverence ‘desires’ is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens, by the king’s orders, I might add!”

         Ciara was about to step in and try to smooth the situation over as best she could, but the blonde man spoke first.

         “Should I have asked her to write a note?” he spoke.

         At that she laughed: it was so ridiculous. He was talking to a mage on behalf of the Chantry. He should be trying to be diplomatic, not raise tension more. Yet here he was cracking jokes!

         “Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!” the mage yelled.

         “Yes, I was harassing  **you** by delivering a message.”

         “Your glibness does you no credit.” the mage replied.

         But Ciara had to disagree, it was at the very least entertaining.

         “Here I thought we were getting along so well,” the blond man replied, “I was even going to name one of my children after you… the grumpy one.”

         Ciara could hardly believe this man. People were supposed to be polite, restrained when talking to someone they wanted something from. Yet here he was joking and laughing, in the back of her mind it reminded her of her father and brother. But they only joked among family.

         “Enough! I will speak to the woman if I must!” the mage spoke before turning towards her, “Get out of my way, fool!”

         She finally understood why she’d wanted to punch this man when she’d first met him. However, her interest was consumed by the former man. Turning back to him she looked at him quizzically.

         “You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.” he said as he approached her.

         She nodded. Behind the humor, the man did have some intelligence. Ciara had meet the king of Ferelden, the Teyrn of Gwaren and two mages from the circle of Magi all in one day. The blight most certainly brought people together.

         “The King, Mages, Grey Wardens and the nobility all in one place?” she said “If only it made them get along as well.”

         “It’s like a party: we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. That would give the darkspawn something to think about.” he spoke smiling, “Wait, we haven’t met, have we? I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”

         “Yes! A mage who learned to wear armor and use daggers like a rogue,” she spoke smiling.

         He laughed. It was a nice laugh, not forced like so many she’d heard from castle guests.

         “Less being yelled at for me, then.” he replied, “Though the day is still young.”

         He seemed happy, smiling and optimistic. What kind of life would create such a man? Or had he always been this way?

         “Wait. I  **do** know who you are. You’re Duncan’s new recruit, from Highever.”

         Hearing of her home hurt less each time she heard it. But she still reached out for Al, he rubbed his head against her hand.

         “I should have recognized you right away. I apologize.” the man said.

         How could he have recognized her? Unless, he was the person Duncan had told her about: Alistair.

         “So you must be Alistair, then?”

         “Did Duncan mention me? Nothing bad, I hope.” he replied, confirming. “As the junior member of the order. I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”

         They needed someone to accompany them? What was this Joining after all?

         “I can’t prepare on my own?” she asked, as a way of seeking information.

         “I know. I felt the same way when I did this. Unfortunately, they don’t give us much choice.” he said before continuing, “You know… it just occured to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?”

         It just occurred to him now? She supposed now was better than later, but honestly.

         “Must be because we’re too smart for you,” she teased.

         “True,” he responded with a smile, “But if you’re here, what does that make you?”

         What  **did** that make her? Before being a woman meant she would marry the best match she could find, and ride both his and her own power as far as it would take her. Now she was just another Grey Warden.

         “Just one of the boys?” she asked, still not sure of the answer herself.

         “Sad, isn’t it?” he asked in way of a reply.

         She wasn’t sure if it was sad or not. To her it simply was. She was a Grey Warden now, or would be soon what with the Joining. Her past life was gone, for good or for ill.

         “So, I’m curious,” he continued, “Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?”

         The honest answer was no, so the best way to answer was not to.

         “Have you?” she asked dodging.

         “When I fought my first one. I wasn’t prepared for how monstrous it was. I can’t say I’m looking forward to encountering another.”

         She thought back on Arl Howe, how normal he’d acted just before giving the order which killed her family.

         “I am far more afraid of men than darkspawn. Darkspawn at least, will try to kill me outright.”

         Alistair gave her a look, but didn’t pry.

         “Anyhow, whenever you’re ready let’s head back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started.”

         Before they left, she wanted to ask him something, to see if her theory about the arguement she’d walked in on had been correct.

         “That argument I saw… What exactly was it about?”

         “With the mage?” he asked, “The Circle is here at the king’s request and the Chantry doesn’t like that one bit. They just  **love** letting mages know how unwelcome they are. Which puts me in a bit of an awkward position. I was once a templar.”

         “That makes sense then.” she replied.

         She grinned. She’d been right about all of it. Even better the man in front of her understood the situation as well. Though he could have used that knowledge to smooth over the situation rather than exacerbate it.

         “I’m sure the revered mother meant it as an insult- sending me as her messenger- and the mage picked right up on that. I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we’re all to cooperate and get along. Apparently, they didn’t get the same speech.”

         Ciara nodded. It all made sense now, especially the part where someone who seemed to be rather intelligent got roped into someone else’s agenda. Also, it meant that Alistair and Duncan must have some sort of past for him to put so much trust in the man. Remembering all she’d been through with Duncan, it wasn’t hard to believe someone else respected the man this much. To be honest, she did as well.

          "I look forward to traveling with you,” she spoke with a smile.

         “You do?” he asked obviously surprised, “That’s a switch. If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on!"


	10. Into The Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara and Alistair met with Duncan, and two other recruits. After receiving a task from him they head out into the wilds

* * *

         Ciara walked back towards where Duncan said he would be, by a large fire, with Alistair following. She was surprised at first that he didn’t take the lead. Some people were happier to follow, she guessed. She had been put in charge without doing anything however, so who was she to argue.

         “You found Alistair did you? Good. I’ll assume you’re ready to begin preparations.” Duncan spoke before turning to Alistair, “Assuming, of course, that you’re quite finished riling up mages, Alistair.”

         Of course he’d heard by now, nothing got past him it seemed. He would make an interesting person to work under.

         “What can I say?” Alistair spoke up, “The revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt they should stick her in the army.”

         “She forced you to sass the mage, did she?” Duncan said, “We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don’t need to give anyone more ammunition against us.”

         “I apologize, Duncan. I’ll go collect who we’re missing.” Alistair responded before leaving.

         He came back with two men. One, an overly large balding man wielding a greatsword: probably some sort of knight. The other, slight, with a bow on his back and, she expected, hands that tended to stick to things. 

         “This is Ser Jory, a knight from Redcliffe.” Alistair introduced the balding man with the greatsword.

         “How do you do,” the man greeted her.

         “And this here is Daveth,” Alistair introduced the man with a bow, “a… fellow from Denerim.”

         “Charmed, m’lady.” he greeted her.

         She smiled, while she might not like either of them, Alistair’s introductions had proved her correct twice over. 

         “And this of course is the recruit that Duncan said he was bringing.” Alistair finished by introducing her.

         Since disliking someone was no excuse for bad manners, she continued to smiled at the men.

         “I’m Ciara,” she spoke, almost saying her last name as well before stopping herself, she wasn’t Ciara Cousland anymore. “Pleased to meet you.” she finished quickly.

         “Now then, since you’re all here we can begin. You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit.”

         “And the second?” she asked.

         “There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts. It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

         “Obtain three vials of darkspawn blood and the magically sealed scrolls from the abandoned archive. Simple enough.” she spoke smiling, at least they’d be doing something.

         “The scrolls contain treaties promising support. Treaties that may prove valuable in the days to come. Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly, and safely.”

         “We will,” Alistair answered him.

         “Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return.”

         They left Duncan at the fire, Aldenon leading the way towards the wilds.

         “Hail,” the guard at the gate greeted them, “I’m told you all have business in the Wilds. The gate’s open for you… Just be careful out there. Even a Grey Warden won’t be safe in the forest tonight.”

         The gates opened and they were through, and it was at this moment she regretted all the horror stories her brother and her had convinced Nan to tell them about the Kocari Wilds.


	11. The Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group heads into the Kocari Wilds, finds an injured man and lots of darkspawn then Ciara gets lost and Al leads them to their destination

* * *

         Upon entering the wilds, Ciara started walking in a direction that looked to be away from camp, straight into a pack of wolves. Ciara’s attempts to flank them didn’t work as well as she’d hoped, so she stabbed at any nearby bit of wolf. She’d gone on hunts before, but it had been other people doing the actually hunting. She’d just rode with them. When the fights was over she worked with the others to skin the pelts which weren’t ruined in the fight. 

         While they were doing so, she noticed a body floating in the water nearby. The wild’s being mostly swamp, she did her best to search the body without getting wet and when that failed she turned to Ser Jory. While she might not believe in the Maker, anyone with common sense could tell the ridiculously bright chantry clothes from a single glance, and the half submerged corpse was wearing them. She looked over at Ser Jory, who was looking around carefully as if he expected the trees themselves to attack. She was pretty sure he was a devout Andrastian, he seemed dumb enough. She smiled, catching his attention.

         “Even if we can’t give him a proper burning, could you check his pockets for me, see if he had any last wishes we could fulfill,” she had no interest in the man’s last wishes but if it got her something useful she’d say whatever she needed. 

         The man nodded at her, walking into the muck he came back with a letter to the man’s son and a location of a stash with directions to it. She smiled, and thanked the man. Then they heard someone calling out.

         “Over here,” a decidedly male voice called out.

         They looked to see quite a number of dead bodies, and the man who called out to them. He spoke again when they approached.

         “Who… is that? Grey... Wardens?..” he was able to force out.

         He looked badly injured to her but before she could try and help him Alistair spoke.

         “Well, he’s not half as dead as he look, is he?” he said.

         “My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn!” the man continued, with more energy now, “They came out of the ground… Please, help me! I’ve got to… return to camp…”

         She thought of her brother for a split second, before recognizing the man wasn’t from Highever, his shield was emblazoned with a different house’s insignia. Her brother was safe, or as safe as he could be. The least they could do was bandage the man up.

         “Does anyone have bandages?” Ciara asked, looking over the man’s wounds.

         “I have bandages in my pack.” Alistair responded, taking a knee he dug them out and started applying them skillfully.

         “Thank you!” he replied, groaning as he got up, “I.. I’ve got to get out of here!”

         Ciara watched the man leave before Ser Jory spoke up, not even trying to control the fear in his voice.

         “Did you hear? An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!” 

         “Calm down, Ser Jory.” Alistair said, “We’ll be fine if we’re careful.”

         “Those soldiers were careful, and they were still overwhelmed.” he continued, getting more and more scared the longer he spoke, “How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There’s an entire  **army** in these forest!”

         “There are darkspawn about, but we’re in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde,” Alistair responded.

         “How do you know?” Ser Jory responded, and it was clear from his voice what he believed. 

         As scared as she might be, she knew what she was supposed to do, what they were supposed to do, and this wasn’t helping them achieve that. In fact, it was doing quite the opposite. She glared him, diplomacy would work on someone intelligent but she decided to take a leaf out of the Chantry’s book: fear and shame. The two best motivators for the unintelligent.

         “I’m not a coward,” he continued, “but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back.”

         “You’re not?” Ciara replied, fixing him with a dark glare, “You had me fooled, what with the fact you’re nearly in tears, and the obvious sound of fear in your voice.”

        They were Grey Warden’s or they were going to be soon. And this man, this idiot, wasn’t doing what they’d been told. Instead, he was trying to do the opposite. He was trying to run back to safety, when they had a job that needed to be done. 

         “I…” he replied surprised at being called out, “I am simply trying to stay alive. You do not see me fleeing, do you.”

         True, he hadn’t tried to desert on his own, instead he was trying to convince everyone else that it was a good idea.

         “A bit of fear isn’t unnatural, you know.” Alistair spoke up,  “Few relish meeting darkspawn up close, I know I don’t.”

         Now Alistair was agreeing with him! Ciara pursed her lips. If they were going to behave this way even though they had a job to then this was truly getting out of hand. One way to always shut a man up and put him on the defensive however: question his manhood.

         “It appears I’m the only man here,” she spoke, making sure to meet eyes with Ser Jory who looked away, then Alistair who looked right back. Smiling of all things!

         “I know  **I’m** relying on you to protect me,” he responded.

         How! How could this man even exist. He was calm and joking even when he shouldn’t be and seemed to take almost anything in stride. What would it take to shake him?

         “Know this,” he continued, “All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won’t take us by surprise. That’s why I’m here.”

         “You see, Ser knight?” Daveth finally spoke up, “We might die, but we’ll be warned about it first.”

         “That is... reassuring?,” Jory spoke, sounded far from reassured.

         “That doesn’t mean I’m here to make this easy, however.” Alistair said, “So let’s get a move on.”

         They continued walking, when Ciara noticed a flower she recognized: white with a red center. She’d seen them in the garden back at home, her mother favorite and Al had eaten all of them. She never had gotten yelled at for that... And now she never would. As she walked over and bent over to get a better look at the flower, Daveth spoke up.

         “That flower… white with a red center” he said, “The kennel master at Ostagar was asking about those.”

         She picked the flower before Al could munch on it, only for him to look up at her with a face that very clearly said he wanted to eat this one too.

         “You can have the next one,” she told the dog before turning back to Daveth, “Did he say why he wanted them?” she asked.

         “He said this flower can help dogs that get sick from bitting darkspawn.” Daveth replied, “At any rate, he was offering a reward if someone went into the Wilds and brought him one. Might want to think about it, is all.”

         He walked away while Ciara placed the flower carefully into her pack. Since Aldenon would be fighting darkspawn with them it would be smart to keep a few as well, so she make a note to keep an eye out.

         Walking further into the forest they came across monsters; twisted creatures, with pointed teeth and bald wrinkled skin. The first darkspawn she’d ever seen. She could understand now why men feared to face them, her stomach twisted just looking at them. The ones up front where slightly larger than men, with dead eyes and leathery grey skin. There were more up on the hill, shooting arrows at them. Those were shorter, stowter, with razor sharp teeth that pointed in every direction. The worst part was how nearly human they looked. They had the body and form of a human, but looking into their face was every nightmare come to life. Their armor and weapons as well were twisted, reflections on themselves. The swords looked to be made of bone and sinew. She held as steady as she could, with a new found understanding of Ser Jory’s desire to run.

         But as the monsters charged she felt something new in her gut. She screamed as she moved to stab them, positioning herself behind them as best she could, she started stabbing wildly, trying to inflict as must damage as possible on these horrors. She aimed a kick at the monster’s groin, hoping it worked the same way as humans and was happy when it keeled over as she beheaded it. When she stabbed the second large monster it’s blood got into her mouth. As soon as it touched her tongue, it started to burn. She spat it out quickly, but the taste of rot didn’t leave and her mouth continued to burn. She dispatched the monsters quickly after than. Finally, when the last one was killed, she looked up. 

         The feelings of fear she’d felt in the battle for her home were no longer there, instead there was a fire, something growing in the pit of her stomach. Every slice of her blades had seemed to feed it. She shook her head, no need to think on it further. She was simply glad to no longer be so afraid. Al walked over to her, a white and red flower poking out of his mouth, with the blood and gore. She shook her head and gave him a scratch behind the ears.

         “Good fighting boy,” she said smiling at him.

         He barked happily and they started off. 

         “Those larger ones were Hurlocks,”  Alistair said, “the smaller ones were genlocks. There are also shrieks and ogres.” 

         After heading back down the hill they’d fought on, they passed under a fallen tree. And hanging from them were corpses of scouts. She shuddered before she could stop herself, looking away as quickly as she could. She’d seen enough dead bodies for a lifetime. 

         “Look there!” Alistair said, “Poor slobs. That just seems so excessive.”

         It did at that, but glancing at them one more time she understood why, it was a scare tactic, and it was working. Forcing herself to look she saw a crow pecking at the right eye of one of the men. I flew off as they approached. Her stomach didn’t twist watching this however, instead that feeling in the pit of her stomach seemed to take over; she wanted to kill whoever, whatever, was responsible for this. They continued fighting darkspawn after that, she stabbed and dodged while the fighting went on. At the top of one hill, what was left of tower sat, with the corpse of another clergyman in the center. The man was named Rigby, and unlike the first man, had a will on him. Apparently, he’d hidden a lockbox back in his camp and wished it be taken to a woman named Jetta in Redcliffe village. Making a note to search for it, she continued exploring, trying to find where this abandoned tower was. 

         After quite a number of skirmishes with darkspawn, she found herself in a camp of some sort. It was within a ruin, but not the ruin of the tower which held the scrolls they needed to retrieve. Remembering the note of Rigby’s she checked the fireplace for a hidden cache, finding an ornate lockbox. While she truly wanted to break it open and see the contents herself she had a feeling both Alistair and Ser Jory would take offence to that, so she stode it in her pack for whenever she was next in Redcliffe village. Continuing her search of the camp she came across a book outlying how to spot Chasind trail signs, while it all looked the same to her at first, Daveth had a knack for them, and eventually she started picking it up as well. While being in the woods made no sense to her, spotting patterns, and holes in those patterns, was something she was good at. 

         Of course, that didn’t stop her from getting hopelessly lost. Still fighting darkspawn quite often, Ciara decided to keep walking forward with as much confidence as possible till she recognized their surroundings. Unfortunately everything looked the same; a tree was a tree was a tree. And while someone else might be able to tell the difference she most certainly couldn’t. She came to a line of stones creating a crossing over the swamp water. Walking across they ended up in the middle of yet another wolf pack. Making quick work of these ones, they continued forwards to find the stash they’d founded mention of, on the missionary she’d had Ser Jory wander into the swap water for. She wondered why he kept his title when she didn’t keep hers. Maybe it was because his family wasn’t dead.

         Wandering around farther, she found herself back on the hill with the body of the second missionary, the one who’s lockbox she now carried. Walking down the path she thought she knew, she found a number of chasind trail signs, but no signed of where they were supposed to go. When she got back to the stone crossing they’d taken when she’d gotten lost the last time she finally looked down at Al. The mabari had been stuffing his face with all the white and red flowers he could get his mouth on, which was a lot, as they were evidently everywhere in the wild. He tilted his head at her, questioningly. Kneeling down she spoke into his ear so that the others wouldn’t hear.

         “Hey, do you know where we are boy?” she asked, “Because I am lost, and we need to get those documents as soon as we can.”

He barked happily and started off in a direction she wouldn’t have considered going. Soon after that, they were up to their necks in darkspawn. This was the first darkspawn mage she’d even encountered. After taking out the rogues who were trying to flank them, she headed straight towards it, crossing the bridge it was on as it ran away from them. As soon as they got to the other side she noticed one leg trap and then another, the types they used to trap bears and other large game. She didn’t want to think of what that would be like on a human leg. She yelled at the others to stop, and quickly disabled all the traps she could see before proceeding to slice up the darkspawn mage. Taking it out with a few well aimed stabs and slices, she helped them deal with the rest

         Once the fight was over, they looted the corpses only to find a soldier's corpse with those of the monsters. On him was a note detailing a old children’s story about the forest and a bag of ashes, snorting at it she placed them both in her pack. When searching the darkspawn, Daveth found the final Chasind trail sign, giving them the location of the Chasind stash. Looking at the area, Ciara had a strong sense of foreboding and asked Ser Jory if he could take point. She wasn’t sure if it was her mocking of him earlier or if he’d finally found some semblance of courage but he walked down into the area, right into a darkspawn trap. They made quick work of the genlocks, the smaller and fatter darkspawn. Finding a treasure trove of materials in the Chasind’s cache, they continued onward, up a steep hill to a cluster of rocks, remembering the story and the dust the soldier had been carrying she took out the pouch. Deciding to have some fun, she tossed some of the ashes onto the pile, not expecting anything to happen. Then a monster appeared behind them, not at all like the darkspawn they’d been facing. She’d remembered stories of demons, just stories, she’d thought. But the monster spoke:

         “Who summons Gazarath from slumber?” it said, before attacking them.

         She tried to flank it, if such a thing could be flanked, hoping that stabbing it enough would kill the thing. Luckily it did and it disappeared back into ash. She decided not to act so impulsively in the future. Demons were apparently very real, and apparently even she could summon them if she wasn’t careful.

         Following Al forward they came to an area with a large number of white and red flowers, and an even larger number of darkspawn. Killing as many as she could she found herself grinning as she took them down, and realized she was enjoying herself. As she took a moment to question that, she got a sword sweep to the side. The blow knocked the wind out of her. She moved her hand to her side; it was tender but not bleeding. The dark feeling in her stomach rose up inside her as she stood up and stabbed her daggers into the monster who’d hit her. It bellowed into her face, it’s glazed over eyes looking even more like a corpse. She yelled right back as she beheaded it. Turning to see the fight was pretty much over all around her.

         “You alright?” Alistair asked as she clutched her side.

         She felt around the wound, wincing as she did so.

         “I think so,” she finally replied, “No broken bones at least.”

         They looted the corpses, looking up to see they’d arrived at the tower they’d been looking for. She looked around her to find Al, only to see him already eating one of the white flowers and halfway to the next one. Well, if they helped him adjust to the darkspawn blood, she might as well let him enjoy. Fixing her dagger into their straps on her back, she headed into the ruins with the others. 


	12. An Unexpected Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group mets an apostate, Morrigan, in the woods, and she takes them to her mother who has the scrolls they were looking for

* * *

         Entering what was left of the tower, Ciara walked over to what looked to be a chest. Examining it now, it might have been a chest at one point but now it was broken in half, and the scrolls were nowhere to be found. As she looked, she heard a woman’s voice from behind her.

         “Well, well, what have we here?” the voice spoke.

         Ciara turned to see that it was indeed a woman, with dark black hair pulled into a bun behind her head, and much less clothing than Ciara felt comfortable with. It was freezing cold down here! How wasn’t this woman freezing her tits off?!

         “Are you a vulture, I wonder?” the strangely dressed woman continued, “A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, com into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”

         As the woman spoke she approached them, and Ciara moved to intercept any of the rest of the group meeting her first. The woman wore a staff on her back and if she was right, weird clothes or no, this woman was an apostate, and therefore must be a powerful mage at that.

         “What say you?” the apostate said, looking straight at Ciara, “Scavenger or intruder?”

         It wasn’t a fair question. Her options weren’t limited to those two, Ciara was a Grey Warden, they’d once owned this tower and while the apostate definitely seemed odd, she also came off as intelligent.

         “I dispute the question, for I am neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower.” she responded, watching carefully.

         “Tis a tower no longer,” the woman replied, “The wilds have obviously reclaimed this desicated corpse. I have watched your progress for some time. Where do they go? I wondered, Why are they here?”

         As she spoke, she walked around them, like a predator circling its prey, Ciara thought at first. But the woman seemed more curious than dangerous. To her anyway. The real danger would be the others, especially Ser Jory. She didn’t want to think what would happen if the fool charged her out of fear, though he seemed more the type to hide than charge.

         “And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long,” the woman continued, “Why is that?”

         Before Ciara could answer, Alistair spoke up.

         “Don’t answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby.”

         “You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” teased the woman.

         Obviously she thought the idea was ridiculous, and Ciara had to agree. If they were going to attack they would have done it from stealth. There was no need to greet them first.

         “Yes,” Alistair continued, “Swooping is bad.”

         “She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She’ll turn us into toads!” Daveth continued.

         Ciara almost put her head in her hands right there. Alistair was alright but the other two. What had she done to deserve being stuck with such idiots!

         “Witch of the Wilds?” the woman continued, “Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?”

         Ciara agreed, at the very least he could have said she was an apostate, instead of jumping straight to children’s stories.

         “You there.” the woman addressed Ciara, “Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

“My name is Ciara, a pleasure to meet you.” she spoke with a real smile this time.

         She was meeting a real life apostate, and as much fun as she might poke at other people for believing in children’s stories, her view of mages, especially those outside of Chantry control, was quite glossy.

         “Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds.” the woman responded, “You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

         Of course, before she could respond she was cut off by Alistair’s accusations.

         “‘Here no longer?’” he spoke, “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re… some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!”

         As Ciara shook her head, Morrigan spoke gave voice to what she was thinking.

         “How very eloquent.” she spoke, “How does one steal from dead men?”

         “Quite easily, it seems.” Alistair responded.

         She knew she’d like him for some reason. He wasn’t a completely hopeless cause.

         “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.” he finished.

         “I will not, for it ‘twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.”

         Ciara decided it was time she speak back in, turning to the apostate she addressed her.

         “Then who removed them?” she asked.

         “”Twas my mother, in fact.” Morrigan replied.

         “Can you take us to her?” Ciara asked, fairly eager to see another mage, especially another apostate.

         “Now there’s a sensible request,” Morrigan said, “I like you.”

         “I’d be careful.” Alistair cut in, “First it’s, “I like you..” but then, Zap! Frog time.”

         He did the worse impersonation of Morrigan’s voice when he did so, but Ciara cracked a smile. Not only because of the joke, but also because of Morrigan’s comment. She liked the witch as well.

         “She’ll put us all in the pot she will,” Daveth interjected, “Just you watch.”

         “If the pot’s warmer than this forest, it’d be a nice change.” Ser Jory said, and for the first time Ciara actually liked him.

         “Follow me, then, if it pleases you.” Morrigan spoke, headed deeper into the wilds.

         As Ciara followed she wanted more and more to know how Morrigan wasn’t freezing in the cold. Even with her armor on, Ciara would get chilly if she stood still for too long. Luckily, that wasn’t a problem. She walked closer to the woman about to ask her how she stayed warm when she noticed the heat. The air was warmer the closer she got to the woman till she could understand her lack of clothes. It must be magic, though it seemed like wasted energy to her.

         As the approached a shack in the Wilds, Ciara was completely turned around. Leaning down to Aldenon who’d been walking with her she whispered to him.

         “Do you know where we are?” she asked him.

         He barked affirmatively, and looked like he was about to start digging before he froze, then laid down. Staring at an old woman who Morrigan was talking to.

         “Greetings mother,” Morrigan spoke, “I bring before you four Grey Wardens who…”

         Her mother raised a hand and interrupted her, looking over the four Grey Wardens and Aldenon, who was lying down a bit away from the rest of them, watching her.

         “I seem them, girl.” she spoke, nodding to herself, “Much as I expected.”

         “Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?” Alistair spoke up, a hint of a smile in his voice.

         “You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide… either way, one’s a fool!”

         Ciara stood up straighter at this, looking harder at the woman. She had grey hair and wrinkles, and was wearing extremely normal clothing, but something about her made her stop and listen.

         “She’s a witch, I tell you! We shouldn’t be talking to her!” Daveth spoke, quickly, and much too loudly.

         “Quiet Daveth!” Jory spoke, “If she’s really a witch, do you want to make her mad?”

         The men around her seemed caught up in either fear or disbelief. But as she looked at the woman, she felt she something different. She couldn’t place a finger on it but the woman seemed old, much older than the wrinkles on her face showed.

         “There’s a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will.” the woman said, before turning to her. “And what of you? Does your woman’s mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these boys do?”

         Looking at the woman, she realized it didn’t matter. She could believe or disbelieve all she wanted but this woman was real. Somethings must be accepted.

         “Believed or not,” she spoke, “Somethings must be accepted.”

         The woman laughed, “There lies the answer I hoped to get. An open mind, yet not made of mush. Am I simply complimenting you?” she spoke, “Wait and see! So much about you in uncertain… and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do! ”

         Ciara watched her, committing the words to memory as best she could. The woman could just be insane, but even insanity had it’s wisdom.

         “So this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” Alistair spoke to her, with a smile that touched his eyes.

         “Witch of the Wilds. eh?” the woman said, “Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!”

         The woman laughed, as Morrigan covered her face in annoyance.

         “They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother.” Morrigan told her.

         “True, they came for their treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected them.”

         Of course, even with warning not to, Alistair started barking.

         “You!” he started, then realized what was actually happening, “oh. You protected them?”

         “And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blights threat is greater than they realize!”

         Ciara took the scrolls from her and was going to ask what she meant, but thought better of it. She would most likely get some cryptic response which while sounding nice meant nothing. Though of course it could also be the other way with this woman, it could sound nonsensical but mean everything. Ciara settled on thanking her.

         “Thank you for returning them.” she answered.

         “Such manners!” the woman responded, “Always in the last place you look. Like stockings! Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!”

         “Time for you to go, then.” Morrigan spoke up.

         “Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests.” her mother told her.

         “Oh, very well.” Morrigan responded unhappily, “I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.”

         Morrigan took them back to the tower, and from there Ciara followed Aldenon back, quite sure she would have gotten them lost on her own.


	13. The Joining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The secret of the Joining is revealed; Ciara, Daveth and Ser Jory go through the ordeal that not all survive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT YET PROOF READ

* * *

Upon their return to camp, Ciara headed straight to the Kennel Master. Imagining how heartbroken she’d be if anything happened to Aldenon, she didn’t want to anyone else to go through that. 

“Greetings,” the man spoke, “Are you one of the Grey Wardens that went into the Wilds? Did you happen to see any white flowers?”

“Yes,” she spoke, removing the one she’d kept from her pack, “I have it here.”

“I don’t know for sure that the flower will aid my poor hounds, but it is worth trying. I have… let’s see… twenty silver to offer as a reward for it?”

She nodded, handing them the flower. She would have given it to him for nothing but if he was offering money she might as well take it.

“Thank you for your assistance, then. Perhaps we won’t lose as many hounds as I’d feared.”

As he turned away to tend to his charges, Ciara headed back towards Duncan. Whatever the Joining was, she was ready for it. She had to be.

“So you return from the Wilds.” Duncan said, “Have you been successful?”

Ciara bristled at that, of course they had. She wouldn’t have come back otherwise.

“We have,” she said, presenting him with the darkspawn blood.

“Good. I’ve had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you’ve retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately.”

“First, there was a woman in the forest” she spoke, “She told us to tell you that this Blight’s threat is greater than you realize.”

“There was a woman at the tower and her mother had the scrolls. They were both very… odd.” Alistair supplied.

“Were they wilder folk?” Duncan asked him.

“I don’t think so. They might be apostates.”

“I know you were once a templar, Alistair, but Chantry business is not ours. We have the scrolls: let us focus on the Joining.”   
She nodded, she had told him all she needed to. 

“I am ready.” she said.

“Excellent. You will need that courage to face what comes next.”

It wasn’t courage. Not really, not to her. It was determination. Strength born of watching while her entire life was ripped away from her. This was the only choice she had, her only chance at redemption. She would not fail again.

“Courage?” Daveth said, “How much danger are we in?”

“I will not lie: We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”

Fate. Ciara was no longer sure what it had in store for her. But looking into the fire, she knew what was right, and this was it. She looked back at Duncan, her resolution clear in her storm grey eyes.

“I have no problem facing what is to come,” she told him.

No matter what it is.

“I agree.” Ser Jory said to her surprise “Let’s have it done.”

“Then let us begin. Alistair, take them to the old temple.”

As the other walked off towards the place she’d first met Alistair, Aldenon whined. She kneeled down stroking his head.

“It’ll be alright boy.” she told him.

He whined again. Before lying down by the fire, and refusing to get up.

“Come on,” Ciara told him, “We have to go with the others.”

Al refused to move however, so with a heavy heart. She turned and walked after Alistair and the other recruits. Upon her arrive at the temple, the little courage Ser Jory had shown before was gone, and she was no longer the only one annoyed by it.

“The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it.” Ser Jory said, pacing.

“Are you blubbering again?” Daveth said, the distaste clear on his face.

“Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?”

“Maybe it’s tradition. Maybe they’re just trying to annoy you.”

The more the two of the kept talking, the more annoyed Ciara got. She wanted to be pacing as well but kept herself still. Even if she couldn’t be calm, she would at least look it. She may not like her fate, but she, unlike Ser Jory, had accepted it. Again, she glared at the men. They were supposed to be being strong. Pretending everything was alright and shouldering their pain with dignity. Yet, it seemed she was the only one with the decency to keep her emotions to herself.

“Tell me Ser Jory,” she addressed him, “When exactly were your man parts cut off? Or have you always been this much of a coward?”

He was flabbergasted by her response. Looking at the group of men, it seemed they all were. 

“I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me, I… It just doesn’t seem fair,” he spoke.

“Would you have come if they’d warned you? Maybe that’s why they don’t. The Wardens do what they must, right?”

At least Daveth had come to his senses. If he’d been complaining as well, she’d have lost it on both of them.

“Including sacrificing us?” Ser Jory spoke.

“I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight.” Daveth retorted.

“Finally, something I can agree with,” Ciara cut in.

“You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn’t you die to protect your pretty wife from them?”

“I..” Ser Jory started.

“Maybe you’ll die. Maybe we’ll all die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we’ll die for sure.”

“I’ve just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade.”

Spoken like a true idiot. Ciara really wanted to yell at him to stop his whining, but it was at that moment Duncan finally arrived.

“At last we come to the Joining.” he spoke, turning everyone attention to him, “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

So that was all? They simply needed to drink the blood of those monsters? It didn’t sound so bad until she remembered how the tiny amount she’d gotten in her mouth during the fight before had burned. She could taste the rot of it in her mouth.

“We’re…” Jory spoke of of turn, obvious terrified, “going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?”

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power and our victory.”

Those words rang out to her, what was the Grey Warden motto. In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. And then the last three words. As she searched for them Alistair started speaking.

“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon.”

What was it? In something, something. That was how it went. In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. And what was the last part!

“We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first, Alistair, if you would?”

“Join us, brothers and sister. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And if you should perish, know that your sacrifice…

In Death, Sacrifice. That was it! In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice. If she died here it would be okay. She’d be fulfilling her duty as a Warden and joining her parents and nephew, if there really was a place after this. Calmness spread throughout her body, all tension let go at once. She listened as Alistair finished speaking.

“And that one day, we shall join you.”

Her mind was clear as Duncan held the over sized chalice. The man looked tired. His face carried the wear of time well, but illuminated by firelight, all those years seemed to come together. He handed the chalice to Daveth, who took a drink. After he handed it back to Duncan there was a pause, which seemed longer than it was, then Daveth bent over and grabbing his head. He cried out in anguish then fell to the ground. Dead.

“I am sorry, Daveth.” Duncan spoke.

So, that was what death would be like here. She imagine that burning feeling from her mouth coursing through her entire body. It was not a pleasant image, but it no longer frightened her. What was pain after all? And if she did die, she’d be rid of pain forever.

“Step forward, Jory.” Duncan spoke.

But the man was quickly retreating, looking from side to side like a cornered animal. Then he pulled his sword, and time speed up. Duncan placed the chalice down on the stone table behind him, before approaching Jory, his only blade drawn. When Jory swung his weapon, she knew it was all over and looked back at the chalice. She heard the sounds of clashing metal and then a man being stabbed in the gut. She hated that she knew what that sounded like. She stood in front of the table now, lifting her hands, she raised the chalice to her mouth and drank.

It felt like liquid fire. Burning her mouth and raging it’s way down her throat. She place the chalice down as carefully as she could. 

“You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good,” Duncan spoke from far away.

Then the fire took, from her throat it rose to her head, then went down her body. Holding her head in her hands she wanted to scream but couldn’t find the breath. She felt like her entire body was burning at for the first time in her life she felt bad for Andraste. Fire was no way to die. Her body burned till she couldn’t think. Then, finally, she blacked out. She would have been happy for this had her sight not turned green. A colossal monster took up the entirety of her vision. The smell of sulfur and brimstone filling her lungs, the monster, the dragon, roared straight at her.

She awoke, to Alistair and Duncan leaning over her, and Aldenon’s head on her lap. She was lying on the ground and as soon as she realized that she sat up. She hadn’t died. Not sure what to think about that she stroked Al’s head. She couldn’t leave him alone after all.

“It is finished.” Duncan told her, “Welcome”

Her body felt like it had been through a meat grinder. She felt raw, like she’d been sliced open from the inside out. Finally taking stock of her surroundings, she realized that Alistair had been talking. Not wanting to be on the ground any longer she stood up, as carefully as she could, her body still screaming at her.

“How do you feel?” Duncan answered.

She wasn’t quite sure how to answer him. She felt like she’d been thrown into the void and pulled out the other side, having left pieces of her behind on the way. But she doubted he wanted to hear that so the shrugged her shoulders, or tried to. The shrug causing her to wince in pain.

“It’s over,” she said, “I’m fine.”

“Did you have dreams?” Alistair asked, “I had terrible dreams after my Joining.”

She thought back, but the image of the dragon had faded away. All she could remember was the pain.

“Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do. That and many other things can be explained in the months to come.” Duncan said.

“Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining. We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us… of those who didn’t make it this far.” Alistair said.

She took the pendant from him: two griffons looking away from each other, wings unfurled, cast into metal with a crystal vial behind them full of the dark red blood. She remembered Oren asking if Duncan had rode in on a griffon.  _ Those who didn’t make it this far _ , huh. She hung the pendant around her neck, running her fingers over it carefully.  _ To those she’d lost.  _ It was a promise, she’d become a warden like her parents wanted for her, and she wouldn’t fail again.

“Take some time. When you are ready, I’d like you to accompany me to a meeting with the King.” Duncan said.

Her heart leapt. A meeting! Probably to discuss their strategies for the war. Loghain would definitely be in attendance. The man was a brilliant strategist, and she’d be able to see this in action. She smiled, and was happy to find it didn’t hurt. The pain was fading from the rest of her body as well.

“Understood,” she told him, nodding.

The two walked off and she looked at Aldenon, he was wagging his tail looking up at her happily. As she stroked his head, everything seemed to come together at once. She kneeled down and hugged him. When she pulled back he licked her face reassuringly. They were going to be okay.

Walking down toward the meeting she stopped to talk to Alistair but he waved her off with a joke.

“If the king wants to see you and Duncan, you probably shouldn’t keep him waiting. He might get mad, start crying, you’ll feel bad, and… well, it won’t be pretty.”

She laughed at that, headed off to meet the most important men in the country discuss the upcoming battle.


	14. Planning for Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting with the King, Loghain, Duncan and others and then the preparations before battle

* * *

         With Aldeon at her side she approached the table where the meeting had already started. As she walked over, she saw Cailan’s gold armor gleaming in the firelight as he spoke to Loghain in front of him. Behind the king on the near side of the table stood an older balding man in mage robes and as well as a woman in Chantry clothing, likely the revered mother. Duncan stood on the opposite side of the table. It would make sense that the only other woman there was from the chantry. As scripture told it was Andraste who turned the Maker’s eyes back to our world and thus, only woman held positions of power in the chantry. But the King was arguing with Loghain and she needed to listen.

         “Loghain, my decision is final. I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault.”

         Didn’t the Grey Wardens fight in the vanguard? That was no place for a King, especially one without an heir to fight at.

         “You risk too much, Cailan!” Loghain retorted, “The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines.”

         Ciara nodded ever so slightly, as she walked around the table to stand next to Duncan. She was her to observe, it would do her no good to be seen taking sides. She would learn more from listening.

         “If that’s the case, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all.”

         He’d asked the Orlesians for help! Ciara’s surprise showed on her face before she could check herself. The Orlesians had enslaved Ferelden for half a century! It was Maric, Cailan’s father, who’d forced them out of Ferelden not long before. Yet, Cailan would turn to them for aid before accepting his uncle’s forces?

         “I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves!” Loghain spoke with clear disgust in his voice.

         “It’s not a ‘fool notion.’ Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past...” Cailan responded, “And you will remember who is king.”

         Loghain was facing away from them, his hand to his face, as he spoke.

         “How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!”

         Ciara had to agree. The Orlesians may be interesting. The Game might be enthralling but it was one thing to read about it and quite another to join into it. With Empress Celene having only just taken the throne… Well, the women had her sympathy and jealousy. Regardless, Orlias was not to be trusted.

         “Then our current forces will have to suffice, won’t they?” Cailan said before turning to back to the table “Duncan, are your men ready for battle?”

         “They are, your Majesty.” Duncan replied with a nod.

         “And this is the lady from Highever I met earlier?” Cailan said, now addressing her, “I understand congratulations are in order.”

         “Thank you, your Majesty.” She replied.

         Her body no longer ached, and the thought of the battle to come, which she’d expected to turn her stomach was just another fact. Like the sun and the stars, it would come and it would go.

         “Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks.” Cailan said with a smile.

         “Your fascination with glory and legend will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality.” Loghain cut in.

         She smiled half-heartedly, turns out it was exactly as she thought. She would have liked to be wrong this once however.

         “Fine. Speak your strategy then. The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?”

         Loghain lived up to his reputation it seemed. The King was finally paying attention to what would actually win him the war. 

         “You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover.” Loghain said.

         “To flank the darkspawn, I remember. This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light this beacon?” Cailan asked.

         “I have a few men stationed there.” Loghain responded, “It’s not a dangerous task, but it is vital.”

         “Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it’s done.”

         She wouldn’t be fighting. Ciara’s heart leaped but something else inside her twisted. She hadn’t realized that she’d been looking forward to the fight nearly as much as she’d be dreading it. Though why send Alistair with her? Something more must be going on then she’d thought. She looked up at the king and smiled.

         “It would be my honor, your Majesty.” She replied.

         “You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?” Loghain retorted.

         She looked at the concern and disgust on his face, Loghain seemed to like Grey Warden’s about as much as he did Orlesians.

         “Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they’re from.” Cailan replied.

         “Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing.” Duncan said.

         “There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wild.” Loghain spoke, his tone saying very clearly that he didn’t believe there was one.

         “Isn’t that what your men are here for, Duncan?” Cailan spoke.

         “I,” Duncan started but stopped himself, “yes, your Majesty.”

         What was he going to say?

         “Your Majesty,” the balding mage said, approaching the king as he spoke, “the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi-”

         “We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage!” The revered mother cut him off, “Save them for the darkspawn!”

         “Enough!” Loghain called out, “This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon.”

         “Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil.” Cailan spoke obviously enraptured. 

         Loghain had started to walk away but he spoke up without turning around.

         “Yes Cailan. A glorious moment for us all.”

         The way he said it made the hair on the back of Ciara’s neck stand up. As everyone departed she followed Duncan back to the fire where they met up with Alistair.

         “You heard the plan.” Duncan spoke, “You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit.”

         “What?” Alistair spoke up in protest, “I won’t be in the battle?”

         “This is by the king’s personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit Teyrn Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.”

         “So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch. Just in case, right?”

         Ciara laughed. She might not care if she was in the battle or not but Alistair obviously did, and he had an interesting way of making his disagreement known.

         “Exactly,” she spoke.

         She noticed how sparks of fire showed off the gold in his eyes. Shaking her head, she noticed her agreement with Alistair’s mockery of Cailan’s need for glory had been interpreted as an agreement about them joining the battle as well.

         “That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure that the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn… exciting or no.”

         “I get it. I get it.” Alistair replied, backing down quickly, “just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line. Darkspawn or no.”

         She could just see him, in a light gold dress with lots of frills trying his best to dance despite the weight of the dress. She laughed at the image. 

         “I don’t know,” she responded, “That could be a great distraction.”

         “Me shimmying down the darkspawn line? Sure, we could kill them while they roll around laughing.” He responded, 

         His smile showed in his voice, and she couldn’t help smiling back, sincerely for once with nothing but joy in the smile. Duncan’s sigh pulled her back to reality.

         “The tower is on the other side of the gorge from the king’s camp, the way we came when we arrived.” Duncan told her. “You’ll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you’ll overlook the entire valley.”

         “Understood,” she replied.

         “We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for.”

         “We know what we must do,” Ciara spoke nodding.

         “Then I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title.” Duncan told them.

         “Duncan,” Alistair spoke, “may the Maker watch over you.”

         “May He watch over us all.” Duncan replied, before heading off towards the battlefield.


	15. The Battle at Ostagar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lighting the Beacon isn't actually as easy a job as they'd been told...

* * *

         Ciara headed straight for the tower of Ishal with Alistair and Aldenon following. When they reached the gorge the battle had already started below them. They walked behind archers as darkspawn trebuchets launched giant balls of fire at the ruin. Both she and Alistair cover their faces as a tower was hit and started to fall. This place was falling apart already, it didn’t need anymore help. They crossed the bridge as fast as they could, avoiding the fireballs as they did so. When they reached the pass of the tower a mage and a soldier came running at them.

         “Help us! They’re everywhere!” the mage cried out.

         “You… you’re Grey Warden, aren’t you?! The tower… it’s been taken!” the soldier addressed them.

         “What are you talking about, man?” Alistair spoke up before she could, “Taken how?”

         “The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers! They’re everywhere! Most of our men are dead!”

         “Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!” Alistair spoke up again.

         She looked over at him. He’d been following her before this but he seemed to step up here, and take the lead as he charged towards to tower. The mage followed them as the soldier went to report what had happened. They met resistance as soon as they approached the tower, darkspawn fighting with the few men still left alive. They made as quick a work of the darkspawn as they could, pressing towards the tower. The closer they got, the more of them there were. The mage had been right: they were everywhere.

         Entering the tower, Ciara went ahead of the rest. Entering the first room, hurlocks at least ten of them started shooting arrows at them, they charged before Ciara noticed a trap. Managing to stop the others and disarm it while under fire, they took out the darkspawn as quickly as possible. Once they made it to the second floor, Alistair spoke up.

         “Maker’s breath! What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn’t supposed to be any resistance here!”

         No, and there was no reason for them to take over the tower. Unless they knew the plan. 

         “The only reason for them to take the tower was if they knew our plan.”

         “Now that’s a scary thought, they couldn’t know about the plan! How? They’re not that smart, are they? At any rate, we need to hurry! We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time. Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal.” Alistair spoke

         Ciara wasn’t sure but Duncan had said the taint let them sense the darkspawn. Maybe it let the darkspawn sense them as well. And from what she little she knew, darkspawn on their own shouldn't be this smart. The only time they acted with intelligence was when an Archdemon was leading them. There might not have been any sign of dragons in the wilds, but it was as Duncan had said: this was definitely a blight.

         They continued fighting. Up to the third floor where they freed some mabari hounds to help them. Until, finally they made it to the top. Only to find a monster like nothing she’d ever seen chewing on a corpse facing away from them. Bent over it was already taller than any man, with wrinkled purple skin and minimal armor. It’s skin was so leathery it was unlikely it would need it, though what armor it did have was decorated with human skulls and other body parts. They’d run into the room to light the signal fire but, they’d stopped short. How were they supposed to fight this thing?

         With wits and skill, obviously. It turned it’s head towards them, standing up it must be three men tall, with sharp pointed teeth, small beady eyes and horns the size of children. It roared at them, and the fire in the pit of Ciara’s stomach flared up. She started the charge, as Aldenon took the beast head on, she circled around to flank the creature. As strong as it might be it was rather slow, and it’s swings were relatively easy to dodge. They took a few hits, and down a few health poultices before she finally dispatched it, jumping up and stabbing it in the chest with her sword to hold herself in place as it fell backwards. Swinging her dagger around she sliced the throat clean through, drenching herself in blood as she did so.

         “The beacon is over here!” Alistair spoke up, “We’ve surely missed the signal… let’s light it quickly before it’s too late!”

         Ciara nodded, heading towards the a large pyre she lit it with a nearby torch. They sank to the ground next to it. Aldenon came over and she petted him. Duncan said they’d send word if they were needed and that was much more fighting than she’d planned on. She continued to pet Al, until she heard sounds from down the steps. She looked over to see arrows flying at her, and darkspawn behind them. Then everything went black.


	16. What Comes Next

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara wakes up, surprised to find out both she and Alistair survived, and with new information comes the question of what to do next

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT YET PROOF READ - WILL DO THAT EVENTUALLY

* * *

         She woke up in a dark room, illuminated by firelight. Looking up she saw the girl from the wilds; Morrigan? She sat up quickly, only to regret it. Her entire body hurt, from her toes to her head.

         “Ah,” the girl spoke, “your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased.”

         She sat up, and felt something warm and soft rub against her side, saw Aldenon was with her. Had they’d survived?

         “What happened to the darkspawn?” She asked.

         “You were injured, and then Mother rescued you. Do you not remember?”

         “I remember looking up to see arrows shooting at me and darkspawn behind them… Then it’s just blank.”

         “Mother managed to save you and your friend, though ‘twas a close call. What important is that you both live. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle.”

         Loghain retreated! Why? That would mean…

         “Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he is not taking it well.”

         Not taking it well? Who wasn’t? Who else had survived? Then she remembered the gold eyes and bright smile. Alistair? Had he survived?

         “By my friend, do you mean Alistair…” Ciara spoke.

         “The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes. He is outside by the fire.”

         Ciara nodded. All the other men who’d been with her matched that description, but Daveth and Ser Jory were dead. As was Duncan and the King, and so many others. She felt something inside of her, not pain or guilt, but something darker. They’re death’s didn’t bother her as much as it should have. Their deaths felt inevitable. But thinking of Loghain now, she tried to figure it out. She’d like him, he’d seemed a clever man. But perhaps not a good one. A clever man would allow people to die if it benefited him. Considering the endless arguments between the king and Loghain, that his daughter was queen, and that everyone else who knew of his betrayal was dead. But Morrigan was talking again.

         “Mother asked to see you when you awoke.”

         “Thank you for helping me, Morrigan.” Ciara said, as she got up.

         “I…” the woman started, “You are welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer.”

         “I will go then,” Ciara spoke, standing up and looking for her armor.

         “I will stay and make something to eat.” Morrigan replied, turning towards the fire.

         After binding her breasts and donning her armor, Ciara went outside with Aldenon. Stretching out the muscles which weren’t still bandaged. Everything still hurt, but it did hurt less. Alistair was there, facing away looking out at the swamp.

         “See here is your fellow Grey Warden, you worry too much young man.” Morrigan’s mother spoke to him.

         He turned around looking like he’d aged twenty years since she’d last seen him. It was probably similar to how she’d looked when she’d lost her family.

         “You-” Alistair started looking at her with disbelief, “you’re alive. I thought you were dead for sure.”

         She put on as best a smile as she could, to find out even smiling hurt.

         “I’m okay now,” she replied, “I appreciate your concern.

         She looked at him carefully when she’d spoke, his voice sounded broken and it worried her, though she wasn’t sure why.

         “You okay?” She asked.

         “This doesn’t seem real. If it weren’t for Morrigan’s mother, we’d be dead on top of that tower.”

         “Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad.” Morrigan’s mother interjected.

         “I didn’t mean…” Alistair started, “but what do we call you? You never told us your name.”

         “Name are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do.”

         “ **The** Flemeth from the legends? Daveth was right- you’re the Witch of the Wilds aren’t you?” Alistair said.

         “And what does that mean?” Flemeth spoke, “I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well, has it not?”

         That didn’t make sense to her. Why go to all that trouble to save them? Or protect the scrolls for that matter?

         “Why **did** you save us?” She asked.

         “Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Wardens’ duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn’t looking.”

         “Of course not!” Ciara spoke loudly.

         “But we **were** fighting the darkspawn! The king had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?” Alistair said.

         “Now **that** is a good question. Men’s hearts holds shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes that the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat.”

         He doesn’t believe it a Blight.

         “The archdemon.” Alistair said.

         “What is the archdemon, exactly?” Ciara asked, she’d never been given a proper explanation.

         “It is said that, long ago, the Maker sent the Old Gods of the ancient Tevinter Imperium to slumber in prisons deep beneath the surface. An archdemon is an Old God awakened and tainted by darkspawn. Believe that or not, history says it’s a fearsome and immortal thing. And only fools ignore history.” Flemeth told her. 

         “Then we’ll need to find and kill it,” she replied.

         “By ourselves?” Alistair spoke up, “No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back. Not to mention, I don’t know how.”

         “How to kill the archdemon, or how to raise an army?” Flemeth asked, “It seems to me, those are two different questions? Have the Wardens no allies these days?”

         “I” Alistair started.

         He seemed so vulnerable right now, Ciara had a sudden urge to hold him close and not let go. She froze at that. She’d just met him yesterday. Was it yesterday? She wasn’t sure how long she’d been unconscious for. Regardless, the thought worried her.

         “I don’t know.” Alistair continued, “Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely.”

         “Arl Eamon?” Ciara asked, “The arl of Redcliffe? You think he’d believe us over Loghain.”

         “I suppose… Arl Eamon wasn’t at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan’s uncle. I know him. He’s a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!”

         Ciara nodded, before remembering something else.

         “What about those treaties Flemeth gave us?”

         “See?” Flemeth spoke, “There’s a smart lass.”

         “Of course!” Alistair cried out, sounding more like his old self, “The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places! They’re obligated to help us during a Blight!”

         “I may be old,” Flemeth said, “but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… this sounds like an army to me.”

         “So can we do this?” Alistair asked, “Go to Redcliffe and these other places and… build an army?”

         “Why not? Isn’t that what Grey Wardens do.”

         “So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?” Flemeth said.

         “Yes,” Ciara replied, “Thank you for everything, Flemeth.”

         “No, no, thank **you**. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I. Now… before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you.”

         Morrigan came over to speak to her mother before she’d finished talking.

         “The stew is bubbling, Mother dear.” She said, “Shall we have two guest for the ever or none?”

         “The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them.” Flemeth said

         “Such a shame-” Morrigan started before realizing what her mother had said, “What?!”

         “You heard me, girl.” Flemeth replied, “The last time I looked, you had ears!”

         Flemeth laughed and that, despite Morrigan’s obvious discomfort.

         “Thank you,” Ciara started, “But if Morrigan doesn’t wish to join us...”

         Personally, she liked the idea but she didn’t want Morrigan to come with them just because her mother said she had to. The amount of tension that would cause…

         “Her magic will be useful.” Flemeth said, “Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde.”

         “Have I no say in this?” Morrigan asked her mother.

         “You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives.”

         All they had to do in repayment for their lives was to bring an extremely clever and gifted apostate with them on their impossible quest?

         “Very well, we’ll take her with us then.” Ciara said smiling.

         “Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won’t this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she’s an apostate.” Alistair said.

         “If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower.” Flemeth responded.

         “Point taken.”

         “Mother…” Morrigan said, “this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready-”

         “You must be ready.” Flemeth replied, “Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I.”

         “I… understand” Morrigan replied grudgingly.

         “And you, Wardens? Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you **must** succeed.”

         “She will not come to harm with us.” Ciara responded, hoping it was true.

         “Allow me to get my things, if you please.” Morrigan said before going back into the house.

         A few minutes later she came back out with a pack on her back.

         “I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. ‘Tis not far, and you will find much you need there. Or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours.”

         “No, I prefer you speak your mind.” She replied smiling.

         She like Morrigan, and she especially liked her cutting remarks. Flemeth laughed as soon as she’d spoke however.

         “You will regret saying that.”

         “Dear, sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment.”

         “Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards.”

         “I just…” Alistair said, “do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?”

         She looked at Alistair, trying to figure out the best argument to use on him. Probably straight up truth.

         “We need all the help we can get.”

         “I guess you’re right.” Alistair said, backing down, “The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them.”

         Was there any argument Alistair didn’t back down from? He seemed to “see reason” a little too easily.

         “I am so pleased to have your approval.” Morrigan responded.

         Ciara didn’t laugh but it was close. She’d never had gotten away with saying something like that. Or she would have, but the fallout from it would be catastrophic.

         “Time to head out then?” Ciara asked, waiting to see if anyone would object.

         “Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut.”

         “Bah!” Flemeth replied, “‘Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight.”

         Ciara winced, her mother would never had said anything like that to her.

         “I… all I meant was…” Morrigan replied, obviously hurt.

         “Yes, I know.” Flemeth replied, “Do try to have fun, dear.”

         At that they left, following Morrigan’s lead towards the town she’d spoken about. As she looked at the woods around them Ciara was glad to not be leading them. She couldn’t tell North from South, and they’d likely wander straight into the darkspawn horde if she’d lead them.


	17. Leaving The Wilds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara talks with Alistair and then Morrigan

         Following Morrigan, Ciara and Aldenon walked side by side with Alistair taking up the rear. She’d asked Morrigan and found out she’d been moving in and out of consciousness for five days. Alistair had been at her side for a lot of it, apparently so much that Flemeth had ordered him to sleep and spend time outside of the hut.

 

         He’d been exceedingly quiet ever since the battle. She wanted to make sure he was okay but she didn’t want to upset him further. She knew how hard it was to lose everyone you cared about. She hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone after it had happened. But she didn’t want him to have to go through this alone. It was nearly sundown before they stopped to set up camp. Morrigan had some stuff from home but her and Alistair had to wait to get proper supplies at the town they were headed to. Morrigan said it was called Lothering. 

         Setting up camp didn’t take long and during the entire time Alistair didn’t speak a word. Morrigan set up a separate place for her to sleep away from the main fire. As much as they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves they needed the fire. They would freeze without it. Sitting down by Alistair she watched as he stared into the fire, before deciding to at least try talking to him.

         “Do you want to talk about Duncan?” she asked, carefully gauging his expression.

         “You don’t have to do that,” he said poking the fire with a stick, “I know you didn’t know him as long as I did.”

         She looked at him, behind the numbness he looked so badly hurt. She could see it bleeding through. From what she could gather, Duncan had been like a father to him. She knew what it was like to lose a father.

         “He was like a father to you,” she said “I understand.”

         “I…” he started, the facade falling away, “should have handled it better Duncan warned me right for the beginning that this could happen.”

         He looked so hurt, staring into the fire like there was nothing else in the world. His left hand was lying by his side, and her hand moved towards his, but she pulled it back quickly before touching him. She didn't want to scare him away true but her pulling away had much less to do with that than she'd admit.

         “Any of us could die in battle.” He continued, “I shouldn’t have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Bight and… and everything. I’m sorry.”

         She could see herself, eight days after her parents deaths, speaking for the first time, repeated those words over and over again: “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.” She could see the same thoughts going through his head now. She couldn’t help it anymore, taking his hand in both of hers she held it tightly. He turned to look at her, the pain clear on his face as he searched hers.

         “It wasn’t your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong.” She said, squeezing his hand, trying to make him believe it, trying to make herself believe it.

         “I’d… like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once this is all done, if we’re still alive. I don’t think he had any family to speak of.”

         He’d turned to stare at the fire, but he didn’t pulled his hand back. His face was so heartbroken when he said that Duncan didn’t have any family. But that wasn’t exactly true.

         “He had you,” she said gently.

         “I suppose he did.” He said, looking at her for a second before looking back at the fire and continuing, “It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him. In the battle. I feel like I abandoned him.”

         Staring into the fire she remembered having to turn away from her parents, and all the times she’d relived those moments but instead she’d stayed instead; in some she’d fought and died with them and in others, they’d escaped because of her. She looked up to see Alistair looking at her.

         “No, I understand completely.”

         “Of course I’d be dead, then, wouldn’t I? It’s not like that would make him happier. I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I’ll go up out there sometime, see about putting up something in his honor. I don’t know”

         He looked away at the last three words but before that he’d been looking straight at her, his gold eyes glowing in the firelight. She’d tensed when he’d mentioned Highever, but only a little.

         “Have you…” he started, looking back at her, “had someone close to you die? Not that I mean to pry. I’m just…”

         He trailed off. He was just looking for connection, to know he wasn’t alone. She squeeze his hand, holding it like a lifeline, she stared at the blue and white parts of the fire.

         “I only became a Warden because my entire family was killed,” she said, before looking straight into his eyes, “Believe me, I know what you’re going through.”

         “Oh, of… of course.” He said, “How stupid of me to forget. Here I am going on and on about Duncan and you… I’m so sorry.”

         She felt him give her hands a reassuring squeeze and that’s when she realized she was crying. She wiped her tears away quickly, trying her best to smile.

         “Thank you.” He said, with something close to his old smile back on his face, “Really, I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little.”

         She smiled back, and for once it wasn’t the least bit forced.

         “Maybe, I’ll go with you, to Highever, when you go.” she said.

         She hadn’t wanted to go back to that place ever again, but maybe if he went with her it would be alright.

         “I’d like that.” Alistair said, “So would he, I think.”

         Alistair got up first, and she followed soon after. As she curled up with Aldenon, she realized she been talking completely candidly that entire conversation. She hadn’t calculated a single word, and not only had she made him feel better, but she felt a lot lighter as well. Not quite sure what was going on, she decided to worry about it tomorrow and fell asleep quickly after that.

         The next morning came quickly but as she woke up she felt rather well rested for a night spent on the ground. They broke camp quickly and headed out, following Morrigan just like yesterday. Alistair seemed a little calmer today, he’d even greeted her good morning when they’d woken up.

         Walking through the wilds, Ciara who kept having to dodge branches and nearly walk into thorn bushes, started watching how Morrigan moved. It was second nature to the woman, she moved through the trees and swamp like she belonged there. As gracefully as Ciara could move across a dance floor, Morrigan navigated the wilds. It was like she’d spent her entire life here. Maybe she had? As they continued walking the question kept bothering her and when they stopped for lunch she finally addressed Morrigan.

         “Can I ask you something?” Ciara spoke.

         “If you must,” Morrigan replied.

         “Did you grow up in the Kocari Wilds?” She asked.

         “Why do you ask me such questions?” Morrigan responded forcefully, “I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?”

         “You could if you wanted to,” Ciara responded with a smile.

         Morrigan laughed at that.

         “Oh, what luck. What is it you asked? If I ‘grew up’ in the Wilds? A curious question. Where else would you picture me?” Morrigan responded, “For many years it was simply Flemeth and I. The Wilds and its creatures were more real to me than Flemeth’s tales of the world of man. In time, I grew curious. I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness.”

         It was the opposite of her. No wonder she walked with such grace here, this was her home. The trees and swamp must be as commonplace to Morrigan as castles and city streets were to Ciara. What would Morrigan look like in her world. If she was acted even half as uncoordinated as Ciara did in the woods, she’d stick out like a sore thumb.

         “No one noticed you?” She asked.

         “For the most part. Flemeth taught me well. For all that I had been taught, however, the truth of the civilized lands proved to be… overwhelming. I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much that Flemeth could never have prepared me for.”

         It made sense now. Just like her sneaking away from her guards, and heading to the alienage. The world she knew was foreign to Morrigan. It must have taken quite the nerve to go exploring, and Morrigan would probably take that as a compliment.

         “Very daring,” Ciara said, “That sounds just like you.”

         Morrigan chuckled at that, clearly happy with the compliment.

         “Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps.” She replied, “Only once was I accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a Chasind who happened to be traveling with a merchant caravan. He pointed and gasped and began shouting in his strange language, and most assumed he was casting some some curse upon me. I acted the terrified girl, and naturally he was arrested.”

         Clever. Despite how opposite their lives had been, Morrigan had an understanding of the world quite similar to hers.

         “That was quick thinking,” she replied.

         “Men are always willing to believe two things about a woman: one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard. Child’s play.”

         It was Ciara’s turn to laugh. She could see the whole thing playing out. Morrigan manipulating the men to do exactly what she wanted.

         “The point being that I was able to move through human lands fairly easily. Whatever humans think a Witch of the Wild looks like, ‘tis not I. Not that I did not have trouble. There are things about human society which have always puzzled me. Such as the touching- why all the touching for a simple greeting?”

         Touching? What touching?

         “Touching?” She asked, “You mean, like a handshake.”

         “To begin with, yes. What is the point of touching my hand? I find it an offensive intrusion.” Morrigan answered, “There were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another’s eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending… none of these things I knew. I still don’t understand it all, truth be told. But, then, I gave up long ago any hope of doing so. When I returned to the Wilds last. I swore to Flemeth that I had no intention of leaving again.”

         And yet here she was. But considering what they were facing, Ciara was glad to have her here. Not only was she essential at getting them through the forest, she was also refreshing to talk to. Morrigan said what was on her mind, in a take or leave it type of way, without caring about the outcome.

         “Well, I’m glad it worked out this way, at least.” Ciara said.

         “Yes? Let’s ignore the entire darkspawn threat and the presence of a simpleton as your only other Grey Warden ally, then.” Morrigan responded, “Not that I lack appreciation for the intent of your comment. Thank you.”

         Alistair wasn’t a simpleton. Though he did act with less care than she did and with less venom than Morrigan did, that didn’t make him dumb. Sure, he was quick to jump to conclusions and overly suspicious. Why was she defending him? Ciara stopped short. She’d been talking honestly with him last night and now her first thought was to defend him from Morrigan’s comment when he wasn’t even here. It made no sense. There was no advantage to it.

         “Well, let’s go on with it before the ground opens up and swallow us, yes?” Morrigan spoke, as she continued leading the way, along no trail Ciara could see.

         Looking over she noticed Aldenon walking close to Alistair, watching him just like he’d watched over Oren in the past. But Oren had been family…

         “Al!” She called him over to her.

         He barked and ran over, expecting to be petted. She scratched his head before kneeling down to talk to him.

         “What’s up boy?” She asked.

         He whined at her, then looked back at Alistair and whinned louder before looking back at her.

         “I know,” she told him. “I”m worried about him too.” 

         Al barked in agreement before walking back to Alistair, getting a pet on the ears when he did. Alistair loved the dog, nearly as much as she did.


	18. On The Outskirts Of Lothering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After killing some bandits, Ciara discusses the abilities of those in her group with them

* * *

         It took a little over five days but they made it to Lothering. Before entering the town however they were accosted by a group of men, the man who seemed to be the leader of the lot started talking loudly.

         “Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to, I’d guess the pretty one is the leader.”

         “Err…” a fat faced balding man spoke, “they don’t look much like them other, you know. Uh… maybe we should just let these ones pass…”

         “Nonsense!” Spoke the leader.

         He had a darker complexion and light blue eyes, which had a dark gleam to him. Ciara fixed him with a glare. They were obviously bandits.

         “Highwaymen,” Alistair spoke, “Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose.”

         “They are fools to get in our way, I say teach them a lesson.” Morrigan spoke.

         “Now is that any way to greet someone?” He said, “Tsk, tsk, tsk. A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on.”

         She had to agree with Morrigan on this. These people were a plague, harassing people when the situation was already dire. Not only that, put the did it so poorly. If they’d let them by she would have paid them no mind. Instead, they’d gotten in her way.

         “You should have listened to your friend.” Ciara said, reaching towards a flask of toxin on her belt, “We’re not refugees.”

         “What did I tell you? No wagons, and this one looks armed.” The fat faced man spoke.

         “The toll applies to everyone, Hanric.” Their leader spoke, “That’s why it’s a toll and not, say, a refuge tax”

         “Oh, right.” Hanric said, as the idea dawned on him, he turned back to her “Even if you’re no refugee, you still gotta pay.”

         “I’m not paying,” she said, maneuvering her hand she pulled a knife out of her sleeve, in the same hand holding the poison.”

         “Well, I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that.” The leader spoke, “We have rules, you know.”

         She dipped the knife into the poison, and placed the jar back on her belt. Inching the knife till it was ready to throw.

         “Right.” Hanric said, “We get to ransack your corpse then. Those are the-”

         He stopped to scream, the knife she’d coated in poison was now lodged firmly in his left eye. She smiled.

         “Come and get me then,” she said, pulling out her daggers.

         They men charged and the fire inside her stomach roared. As she dismembered the rest of the group, she kept an eye on Alistair and Morrigan. She’d practiced fighting with Al before and knew how to move in sync with him but she still didn’t know much about the fighting style of the other two. She’d been paying no attention to anyone but herself in the fight back at Ostagar. But if she was going to be traveling with these two it made senses to learn their strengths and weaknesses. That way they’d be able to use those in combination, and if they ever tried to attacked her, she’d be ready.

         Alistair fought defensively, using his shield to fend off attacks while swinging whenever there was an opening. Morrigan was different. Ciara didn’t know how magic worked, she just saw lightning flying at people and when she was stabbing on bandit he ended up froze. Then Morrigan turned into a giant spider. That was when Ciara screamed. She didn’t care for spiders at the best of times, and this was a giant one. Luckily, it had freaked the bandits out as well and she returned to stabbing bandits instead of trying to stab the spider. She kept reminding herself it was just Morrigan. When the bandit leader, one of the few men left, threw up his hands and yelled surrendered, Morrigan finally turned back.

         “W-we-we’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!” The man said.

         “Bad choice of target,” she told him, weapons still out.

         “Yes! Yes! Of… of course! We should’ve been more careful. I’m sorry.”

         Sorry? Sorry wasn’t going to cut it. But it would be easier to turn them over to the authorities, maybe there would be a reward, at the very least it could give them enough goodwill to get some information.

         “I’m turning you in to the authorities.” she told him.

         “There aren’t any! Just the templars, and they’ll execute me!”

         Well, that made this easy then.

         “Allow me to do it for them, then.” She told him her blades ready.

         “I’m not going down without a f-” he started to say, but was cut off when Ciara beheaded him.

         “Not that I don’t appreciate the dramatic effect, but you could let people finish their sentences before killing them” Alistair said to her, “Just a thought.” He added quickly.

         Ciara smiled at that, laughing. Count on Alistair to completely dispel the tension. However, Morrigan turning into a spider was still dreadfully clear in her mind. She turned over to her, while they were searching the corpses.

         “Morrigan?” She asked.

         “What do you wish of me?”

         “Can I ask you something?” She asked, dancing around the question.

         “If you must,” she replied.

         “So, you turn into a spider?” She said.

         She was losing control over her fear rather quickly now.

         “I’m a shapechanger, a mage with the ability to change their shape” she replied.

         She stood up straighter, her eyes gleaming. Her fear had fled, and now she was curious.

         “How did you become a shapechanger?” She asked quickly.

         “I was not born such.” Morrigan told her, “‘Tis a skill of Flemeth’s, taught over many years in the Wilds. The Chasind have tales of we witches, saying that we assume the forms of creatures to watch them from hiding. When a child is alone and separate from his tribe, that is when we strike, dragging the young boy kicking and screaming to our lair to be devoured. A most amusing legend.”

         She laughed. Morrigan seemed the type to hate children. Bothersome, was the word that came to mind. She decided to ask about Flemeth instead.

         “So has Flemeth being doing this for a long time?” She asked, “The transformation, not the child snatching.”

         “Certainly,” Morrigan replied, “She has done so many times in my experience, and in truth my life span is but a fraction of her own. Why do you ask? Is there something specific you wish to know?”

         Ciara wasn’t sure what to ask first. If she could transform into an animal… She couldn’t even imagine it. She looked at Morrigan, her life was so extremely different than her own.

         “Do you spend a lot of time as an animal?” She asked.

         “There were nights when the Wilds called to me, ‘tis true. You look upon the world around you and you think you know it well. I have smelled it as a wolf, listened as a cat, prowled the shadows that you never dreamed existed.” Morrigan spoke, “But my life is as a human. I am under no illusions to the contrary.”

          “When you change, what do the other animals think of you?”

         “They do not shy away from me. To their senses, I believe I seem like any other of their species. As to what they think, I truly cannot say. Just as I am still human, no matter my form, they are still animals. Thus they cannot speak, even were I to ask.”

         She’d always misspeak when she’d just started talking instead of thinking first. She hadn’t done this since she was a child! She’d been so excited to learn about a type of magic she’d never heard of before that she’d stopped thinking straight. Morrigan had said she could change her shape, and that she took the form of other animals. What if she could change her human form as well? Could she? It would be extremely useful and extremely terrifying if she could.

         “Can you change into other human forms, as well?” She asked carefully, trying to smile.

         “The form of an animal is different from my own. One may study the creature, learn to move as it does, think as it does. In time, this allows one to become as it is. I gain nothing by studying another human. I already am the same as they are. I learn nothing. So the answer is no, my human form is the only one I posses.”

         Ciara held back her sigh of relief, trying to make it sound like a normal breath instead. If she could do that, and turned against her, it would be impossible to stop her. Of course she could be lying but Ciara didn’t think so. It didn’t fit. She smiled, trying to keep up the look of happy curiosity.

         “I’ve never heard of magic like that before,” she told her.

         “No? ‘Tis not unheard of, in the remote corners of the world. There are traditions of magic outside of the Circle of Magi, despite what those mages would have you believe. Some of these traditions are old, indeed, pass down as carefully-guarded lore from one generation to the next. The zealots of the Chantry would uproot all such practitioners if they could, but as luck have it some still exists. My mother is such a one.”

         “That’s good,” Ciara replied, “Such traditions need to be preserved. It would be a shame to lose knowledge due to fear of it.”

         “I am surprised you think so. Still, ‘tis a pleasant thing to hear.”

         She nodded, she asked all the questions she had to ask.

         “Thank you Morrigan, that’s all I wanted to know.” She said.

         “Indeed? Have you an opinion on my abilities, then? Am I an unnatural abomination to be put to the torch.”

         Torching people, especially mages, for their power was ridiculous, especially when they were on the same side. She shrugged. The rareness of the ability should confuse other mages and templars, and normal people might even run screaming.

         “I think you abilities sound quite useful,” she said.

         “A most practical opinion. Far more than any man I have spoken to.” Morrigan responded, “But enough of such talk. Let us proceed, lest the dust gather on us.”

         She walked over to the man she’d stabbed in the eye. Grabbing the little of the knife which wasn’t inbeded in his eye she pulled and the eye came out with it. Revolted, she ripped some of the guys shirt off, so she could remove the eyeball from her knife without touching it. Before continuing towards the town however, Alistair cried out and she turned to see Aldenon growling at him.

         “Why you little…” he spoke, clearly unhappy.

         “What happened?” She asked, walking over to make sure they were both okay.

         When she got close, she noticed Aldenon had a dead squirrel by his feet, he must have caught it recently when she was talking to Morrigan possibly.

         “Your furry friend here took offense at me getting near his food.” Alistair pouted, “Snapped at me. Look…”

         He showed her the mark on his hand, and while there were clearly teeth marks no blood was drawn.

         “You do know that he’s a wardog,” she reminded him with an apologetic smile.

         It was definitely Alistair’s fault but he looked so much like a lost puppy, she couldn’t help but feel bad.

         Aldenon growled angrily at Alistair as he held his dead squirrel in his mouth.

         “Sometime I forget that he’s a wardog,” he said, “That’ll teach me. Anyway, was there something you needed?”

         “Yes,” she said, “I was wonder what exactly a templar can do?”

         “Essentially they’re trained to fight. The Chantry would tell you that the templars exist simply to defend, but don’t let them fool you. They’re an army.”

         She nodded. It made sense after all. The Chantry was a huge power in nearly every country, and while a long history, strong connections and far spread religious dogma worked well, any organization could use an army.

         “The other main purpose for a templar is, of course, to hunt mages.” he continued, “To that end, we train in talents that drain mana and disrupt spells.”

         It made sense. Though with such a well trained army, it was surprising the Chantry kept control of them. She wanted to know what it was but it would be best to phrase it differently when talking to Alistair.

         “Seems like the templars could run the Chantry,” she lead.

         “You’d think that, but it’s not so,” he replied, “The Chantry keeps a close reign on its templars. We are given lyrium to help develop our magic talents, you see…. which means we become addicted.”

         There it was!

         “And since the Chantry controls the lyrium trade with the dwarves… well, I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

         It was genius, she had to give them that: an excellent method of control. But she was sure Alistair would not want to hear that. As much as he didn’t seem to want to be a templar, he did seem to believe in the good in people, and in the chantry. Maybe indignation? Or disbelieve? Both would be best.

         “That’s horrible!” She said with as much fake anger as she could manage, “I can’t believe they would do that!”

         “Well, they do it. And they feel perfectly justified. You don’t need lyrium in order to learn the templar talents. Lyrium just makes templar talents more effective. Or so I was told. Maybe it doesn’t even do that.”

         It worked but for some reason she wasn’t happy about it. He’d fallen for what she’d said, but she wasn’t happy to have him react how she wanted. She felt like she’d tricked him. What was wrong with her? She never felt this way after getting what she wanted!

         “The Chantry usually doesn’t let their templars get away, either, so they can spread their secrets. I’m a bit of an exception. Lucky me.” he said with heavy sarcasm.

         At that they continued down the path to town.


	19. Entering Lothering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group enters Lothering and other stuff happens, I'll write a better summary later...

         After looting what little the highwaymen had on them, they found the corpse of a knight of Redcliffe among them; one of their prey no doubt. Ciara removed his locket and the letter on him. They’d be going to Redcliffe eventually, with this they’d be able to confirm his death when they did.  As they continued into town, Alistair spoke up, stopping them.

          “Well there it is,” He said, “Lothering. Pretty as a painting.”

          “Ah,” Morrigan spoke, and Ciara knew that whatever was about to come out of her mouth was going to be bad.

          “So you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you? Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?” She asked Alistair.

          “Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?” Alistair responded.

         It wasn’t a good comparison. From what she could tell Morrigan's relationship with her mother was strained at best, nothing similar to how much Alistair cared for Duncan.

          “Before or after I stopped laughing” she replied.

         See, bad comparison.

          “Right. Very creepy. Forget I asked.”

         In order to get them back on subject she addressed Alistair, wishing her use of common courtesy would rub off on the other two.

          “What did you want to talk about, Alistair?’

          “His navel, I suspect. He’s certainly has been contemplating it for long enough.”

         Morrigan’s lack of regard for other people’s pain was starting to get on her nerves, but she controlled herself. One of them had to.

          “Oh, I get it. This is the part where we’re shocked to discover how you’ve never had a friend your entire life.” Alistair replied, dryly.

          “I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so.”

         An interesting attitude, though in her experience a smile and flattering words would convince more people than a well thought out argument and insults.

          “Anyway...” Alistair continued, “I thought we should talk about where we intend to go, first.”

         If he was bringing it up, then he obviously had an opinion. Best to ask his before stating her own.

          “You have some thoughts on the matter, Alistair?” she asked.

          “This should be good,” Morrigan cut in.

          “I think what Flemeth suggested is the best idea. These treaties… have you looked at them?”

         She nodded, before elaborating so that Morrigan knew as well.

          “The treaties guaranteed the Grey Wardens aid from the Dalish elves, dwarves of Orzammar and the Circle of Magi.”

          “I also still think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We may never want to go to him first.”

         For the first time in her life she didn’t want to deal with the complications of politics, and getting Arl Eamon to believe them would almost certainly be hard. As it was, of those groups she was most interested in the Circle of Magi. She could see them now, in the middle of a battle plans with some of the best educated minds and most powerful people in Ferelden. Powerful in their own right, unlike a king or queen whose power came from that over people, money and staus. After spending time with an apostate, she really wanted to see the difference between Morrigan and a circle mage. But what was the best way to convince them, especially if Alistair thought they should see Eamon first.

          “Well, we’ll need more information in town but we might want at least one group on our side before trying to convince Arl Eamon. It would place us in a better position to convince him. And if the mages in the circle are even half as good as Morrigan, then the Circle of Magi is our best bet”.

         Alistair nodded, seemingly convinced. Though, Morrigan while flattered at her comment didn’t seem completely convinced but looked willing to go along with her.

          “Fair enough,” Alistair said, “Let’s head into the village whenever you’re ready.”

         The village was relatively small, a number of houses far outnumbered by the tents outside of it which were filled with refugees. The town itself was enclosed by a small wall, but nothing there would keep the darkspawn out. Upon entering she came across a Templar, who called out to them.

          “You, there! If you’re looking for safe shelter, I’ll warn you: There’s none to be found.”

         He’d seemed as good a person as any to get answers from, so she approached instead of continuing by.

          “Move on if you can. Lothering’s lost.” He told her.

         The Templar was in full plate armor, with the burning sword of the order emblazoned on its front. She was glad Morrigan had the common sense to keep her mouth shut. If Templars were running this town, Morrigan might be better off passing through. Unfortunately, they needed information.

          “I was just looking for news,” she told him.

          “You might find that,” the templar said, “though it’s probably just frightened gossip.”

         She hated the Templar helm most of all. It was a sheet of metal with only see through holes for the eyes. It made the person inside of them nearly unreadable. A total nuisance.

          “We’ve had refugees streaming from the south for the last two days,” He continued, “The chantry and tavern are full to bursting. There simply isn’t enough food to go around, and we templars can barely keep order. You’d be better off elsewhere, my friend.”

          “Can I ask a few questions first?” She asked him.

         As long as he was here, she might as well.

          “I’m just out here to keep an eye out for darkspawn. Please ask someone in town. No offense.”

         Well, if she was to ask someone in town she’d need to know who. The Chantry loomed in front of them, the largest building in the town by far and probably their best bet for information. But she wasn’t setting foot inside a chantry unless she had to.

          “Is anyone in charge here?” She asked the Templar.

          “The bann has marched north with Teyrn Loghain, so Lothering’s on its own. Most folks look to Elder Miriam. Otherwise, you could speak to Ser Bryant in the chantry, I suppose. It’s up to you.”

         At that he went back to watching for any signs of darkspawn. As they continued farther into town Alistair spoke up.

          “It’s just a guess,” Alistair said, “But I’m guessing everyone in Lothering is aware of the approaching Darkspawn horde.”

         It was true, everyone seemed rather disheartened, her eyes caught on a family of elves carrying less supplies than the rest of the refugees. They had a child around the age of five who looked very hungry; they all did.

“Greeting to you, my lady. If it… isn’t too much to ask, might you be able to spare some bread?” A male elf, probably not much older than herself asked.

         It had been a long time since anyone had called her, “my lady”. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the title.

          “What happened to you?” She asked them, honestly concerned.

          “We thought it’d be safer in Lothering, that the teyrn would bring his soldiers here. But bandits attacked us and took everything! Our food… our clothes… my daughter’s pet lamb."

         It made sense, their clothes weren’t of bad quality but were quite dirty. A family of three displaced by the blight. Her heart stung. But they said bandits attacked them, maybe it was the ones she’d killed.

          “Nobody cares about a few elves. Can you help us?”

          “If you’re referring to the bandits outside of town, I met them. They’re dead now, and a lot of the stuff they stole is still there.”

         “You… killed them?” he asked her, surprised.

         “They didn’t give me much of a choice,” she replied.

         “That’s wonderful news!” spoke a woman, she assumed was his wife, “Perhaps our belongings are still there!”

         “I can’t thank you enough, friend. Even if we don’t get everything back, it’s good to know others will be safe.” He spoke before leaving with his family

         Ciara smiled, it was nice to be able to help people again. Especially elves, who had life so much worse as a whole. Walking further into town, looking for the elder the templar had mentioned she saw a red hair child, no more than ten, around Oren’s age. The image of his dead body flashed before her eyes at the thought of him. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t paid much attention when she and Duncan had traveled through town the last time, since it was mainly just soldiers moving about. Either headed to join the army or guards stationed around the town. Speaking of which, she hadn’t seen any of those guards since.

         “I’m cold. I don’t like this,” he said shivering, as they approached he asked her, “Have you seen my mother?”

          “Depends,” she said, trying to ignore just how much he reminded her of Oren, she shook herself and put a smile on her face, kneeling down to his height, “Who is your mother?”

         “She’s really tall… and she has red hair. We live on a big farm hold, all of us.” he spoke with enthusiasm, “Some mean men with swords came, and mother told me to run to the village as fast as I could, so I did! She said she would be right behind me, but I’ve been waiting and waiting and I can’t see her!”

         He’d lost his mother and he didn’t yet realize it. But she definitely wasn’t going to be the one to tell him, it should come from someone he knew. Maybe his father could help.

          “Do you know where your father is?” she asked him.

         “He went with William to the neighbor’s yesterday, but he didn’t come back.”

         A newly orphaned child, alone in the world. His enthusiasm kept reminded her of Oren, no matter how hard she fought to push the thoughts back down. He was so happy, so full of life, and now dead. But there was a child in front of her, who was alive and without a family to mind him, he might go back home trying to find them, and that would get him killed. His mother had died for him, telling him to run on ahead, Ciara wasn’t about to let that be in vain. 

         “I don’t think she’d coming, lad,” she told him trying to be as gentle as she could.

         Ciara knew what it was like to lose one’s parents. She wasn’t about to force a kid to face that before he was ready to. 

          “Why not?” the boy asked, obviously hurt, “Why would she leave me here?”

          “She never meant to leave you,” she told him. 

          “But she must be coming!” he cried.

         Telling him his mother was death wouldn’t help. Maybe bringing up the idea of her not showing up, without saying she was dead, would. And it was always better to phrase it as a question.

          “It’s cold out and you can’t stand around forever. What if she doesn’t show up?”

          “I don’t know,” he said, “Maybe I should go home and look for her?”

         Very bad idea. His home was either taken over by darkspawn or plagued with bandits by now, going home would kill him.

          “Your mother told you to run here right, you shouldn’t go home.” she said.

          “Then what should I do? I have nowhere to go and I’m hungry!”

         She could give him money but he’d most likely be cheated out of it rather quickly. She couldn’t take him with them: he be a liability and likely get someone hurt or killed protecting him. He needed somewhere safe which would take him in no questions asked, and as much as she might not like them there was such a place: the chantry.

          “Go to the chantry, child. Someone will look after you.” she told him.

          “I will,” he said, “But only if I don’t find Mother, first. You’re a really nice lady. Kind of like Mother. I should go look for her.”

         Ciara smiled, she always expected to be a mother, but she never really thought of it in depth. The child might not realize now but his mother was one of the kindest, strongest, most selfless people he’d ever know. Her mother had done the same thing, facing the army that was coming at them so that she could survive. The comparison both complimented and shamed her. Would she ever do something like that? Could she? She noticed Alistair and Morrigan talking in the background, but paid them no mind, crossing the bridge toward what she hoped was a tavern, the best places to collect information, most gossip comes from some sort of truth.

            She noticed a man right outside. Unlike the others who seemed rather closed off, he seemed open to talking, if unhappy.

            “Might not want to go in,” he told her, “Tavern’s full, and those soldiers are being a nuisance.”

            “Soldiers?” she asked him.

            If they were Loghain’s men she’d want to avoid them. It was better if he didn’t know that Alistair and herself were alive. Assassins tended to not be fun.

            “They’re not here to defend us. They were looking for someone… before they started drinking. I hear they almost killed a man because they didn’t like his face. I wonder if they’re deserters from the king’s army?”

            Since one of the best way to get good information was by asking stupid questions, she continued talking.

            “The army will protect Lothering won’t it?” she said, hiding her smile.

            “With the King dead? Them darkspawn will overrun Lothering before anyone can organize,” he replied, “You’d think those soldiers could at least run off those bandits. I heard **someone** gave them what they deserved. Wasn't you was it?

            “Yes, that was me,” she replied, her smile showing through. 

            “It was?” He asked, before waving down some of the other refugees, “Hey… everyone! This is the one who drove out those thieving bastards! More will probably come, but it’s good to know some justice is left here. Thank you.” 

         He left, telling more people what she had done. Perfect, not only had he gave her information but now he was spreading positive information about her. Considering their situation, they could use it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I lost a ton of work when I lost my gmail account, long story that so I kind of rage quit this whole thing but I found two unedited chapters on my computer a while back and I finally got around to editing the first one and maybe I'll start writing this again I don't know, we'll se


	21. The Chantry Sister

         She entered the tavern carefully, trying to keep a low profile. Unfortunately, one of the soldiers she’d been warned about called her out as soon as they entered.

          “Well. Look what we have here, men. I think we’ve just been blessed,” a man who looked to be in charge of the soldiers spoke.

         The man wore scale armor, had more stubble than an actual beard, and dark eyes that made you think of tunnels.

          “Uh-oh,” Alistair said to her, “Loghain’s men. This can’t be good.”

         She was impressed he’d noticed, and placed their insignia before she had.

          “Didn’t we spend all morning asking about a woman by this very description?” Spoke a man in splint-mail armor, probably the second in command, “And everyone said they hadn’t seen her?”

          “It seems we were lied to,” said the commander.

         Then a woman dressed in chantry robes came over from the corner. She had daggers on her back and ginger hair, her green eyes quickly assessing the situation.

          “Gentleman, surely there is no need for trouble,” she spoke up, stepping between Ciara and the men, “These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refugee.”

          “They’re more than that. Now stay out of our way, Sister. You protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them,” he responded.

         Since Loghain quit the field yet still remained in power, he must have decided place the blame for the king’s death on someone else. And with the way she was being treated, it seemed that someone else was the Grey Wardens. However, they had yet to call out Alistair, perhaps Loghain didn’t yet know what he looked like. Besides the Commander, there were four other soldiers in the room, an easy fight if it came to that. But dead bodies made for questions and it was best not to leave a trail. Especially if Loghain was looking for Wardens. Anonymity was key.

          “It’s as the sister said, we only just escaped Ostagar. We’re not traitors, just soldiers from Highever, and yes we deserted the king’s army but only after the king died!” she spoke, with a measured amount of worry and fear in her voice, “Please, let us talk before thing get out of hand!”

         She spoke and as quickly as possible, in order to both overwhelm them with too much information at once and to further verify the fear she was trying to fake, making sure to project her voice so the other refugees would hear that instead. She wanted to pull her knife out of her sleeve, but she was worried they might notice.

          “I doubt he will listen,” the red haired sister told her, “He blindly follows his master’s commands.”

          “I am not the blind one! I served at Ostagar, where the teyrn saved us from the Grey Wardens’ treachery! I serve him gladly! There’s no mistaking the description, you’re the warden who was described to us,” he turned to his second in command, “Take the Warden into custody. Kill the sister and anyone else that gets in your way.”

         He’d been going on long enough she’d been able to pull her knife out, but not quite enough time to coat it in poison.

          “Right!” the other man spoke, “Let’s make this quick!”

         She grinned. I would definitely be quick. Before he either of them could pull their swords she stepped close the the second in command, aimed a false kick towards his crotch and when he moved to blocked, her hand shot up. She lodged the knife as deeply into his throat as she could, causing him to cry out soundlessly, stumbling backwards. Pulling her daggers, the group made quick work of the rest of the soldiers. To her surprise the chantry sister had joined them in the fighting. She’d expected the sister to back off after the threat to her life, but instead she used her dagger with a precision and skill that could only come from training. There was more to her than she’d thought. When all his men had hit the floor, either dead or severely injured, the commander threw up his hands.

          “All right, you’ve won!” he said, “We surrender!”

          “Good. They’ve learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting, now.” The sister said.

         The sister was covered in as much blood as the rest of them, the red mixing well with the orange and yellows of the chantry clothing. Considering the amount of blood the Chantry had on their hands it wasn’t surprising how well their colors matched. Unfortunately, their situation wasn’t as simple as she was making it out to be. She couldn’t just stop fighting now. If the men had just accepted her story, believed they were just soldiers passing through. But they’d identified her as a Warden, and could now give a description of Alistair and Morrigan as well. She couldn’t let these men return to Loghain.

          “I can’t have them reporting to Loghain,” Ciara said, her dagger still in her hands.

          “Please! Wait!” the man cried out.

          “They have surrendered! They were no match for you!” the sister said, “Let them be!”

         The woman was trying very hard to convince her not to kill them. Didn’t she understand it wasn’t that she wanted to? This was the thing she’d always hated in the stories she read as a child, the hero would let someone with dangerous information live because they believed it was the right thing to do. Well, she was a warden, not a hero. Her duty was to defend these people from the blight and Loghain was fighting against that. She couldn’t let this man leave this room alive. Let the news get to Loghain in rumors and whispers, rather than in a soldier's report. She wasn’t sure how to convince a chantry sister of this however. Maybe scripture? While she had no faith in the Maker, the chantry was powerful. If she hadn’t gone to the Chantry it would have raised questions, so she knew the Chant of Light well. The only thing she could think of was Maferath’s betray of Andraste, and how Leliana had said this man would follow Loghain’s orders blindly.

          “Loghain betrayed the king and the rest of our order. He will not rest until we are dead, I will not allow them to handed us over to him.” Ciara told her.

          “These men failed to do such,” the sister replied, “and I do not wish death on anyone.”

         Well if that was how she was going to be there was no getting around it. Might as well let her say a final prayer. If the woman was going to see her as a killer, she might as well temper that with coddling her religion.

          “Then give him a final prayer, Sister,” Ciara told her.

          “You mean…” she started, “very well. May the Maker forgive your trespasses. May He keep you in His sight and guide you

         She’d turned to the man to give him his final rite and as her last word was spoken, Ciara drove her dagger into his heart. After they’d checked on the rest of the men, killing those who weren’t already dead, the sister came over to Ciara.

          “I apologize for interfering, but I couldn’t just sit by and not help,” the sister said.

         She nodded, she appreciated what the woman had tried to do and was impressed at her skill. The chantry sisters she knew only wielded guilt as a weapon.

          “I appreciate what you were trying to do,” she said, “So, where does a sister learn to fight like that?”

          “I wasn’t born in the Chantry, you know. Many of us had more… colorful lives before we joined.”

         The way she said colorful, it bothered her. What type of life would a woman have to lead to have that level of skill in both speech and swordplay but end up as a sister in a small Ferelden town? She could figure out a lot of lives which could cause the first or the second, but only a few that would cause them both. All of them involved running from something.

          “Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the chantry here in Lothering. Or I was.”

          “My name is Ciara, a pleasure to meet you.”

          “Those men said you’re a Grey Warden. You will be battling the darkspawn, yes? That is what Grey Wardens do? I know after what happened, you’ll need all the help you can get. That’s why I’m coming along.”

         Interesting. The reason she’d stepped in was more than just to diffuse the situation. Though she must have another reason for wanting to join them, it couldn’t just be about fighting darkspawn. After hearing her speak, she didn’t sound Ferelden, it was slight but there was definitely an accent there. Ciara couldn’t place it however, her parents hadn’t locked her in a tower but she’d never traveled outside the lands her family protected. Another reason she could think of for Leliana wanting to come along to was a deep set belief in good and evil. And while she could argue over what was good, darkspawn were nothing but evil.

          “Why so eager to come with me?” she finally just decided to asked.

          “The Maker told me to.’

         So the girl was insane, well more insane than previously thought. Before she was irrational in a way which was common, this was less so.

          “Can you elaborate on that?” she asked.

          “I,” she stammered, “I know that sounds… absolutely insane- but it’s true! I had a dream… a vision!”

          “More crazy? I thought we were all full up.” Alistair input.

          “Look at the people here. There are lost in their despair, and this darkness, this chaos… will spread. The Maker doesn’t want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker’s work. Let me help!”

         Her insistence was worrisome, but she did seem sincere. The best thing for a chantry sister to do would be to help people here. However, some people thought they were meant for more. Maybe this had to do with her past life, she’d gotten bored of her life here and was looking for an excuse to move on? Regardless, she should probably stay where she was.

          “If you feel sorry for the people, sister, why don’t you help them here?”

          “Then what? What happens when the horde come? It will follow anywhere we flee until all we know is destroyed.”

          “Then help them somewhere else,” she said, “if the Maker is speaking to you then He should know what to do.”

          “But I…” she started before sighing, “I will go, for now. It’s not important that you believe what I say, only that you serve the Maker in the end. Think about it, please. That is all I ask.”

         At that Leliana left the tavern. After watching her go, Ciara apologized to the barkeep for the mess, and asked him about Leliana. Apparently she was a chantry sister, who’d came here from Orlais, and spent her time in the tavern drinking wine by herself. The accent must have been Orlesian, no wonder she couldn’t place it. She’d never met an actual Orlesian before. But she’d heard stories. The Grand Game: the politics and intrigue of Orlesian court. The complexities of their court was fascinating; lies, plotting, assassination, elaborate masks and clothing. It was all commonplace in the Orlesian court. Regardless what the woman thought she believed, the stories she must be able to tell. It would also make sense why she was in Ferelden. If she or a patron of hers lost in the game, the consequences would likely be deadly. In addition to this, there was a rumor going around that the Knights of Redcliffe were going around looking for Andraste’s Ashes, most likely to cure the Arl. But why or if he was sick, no one knew for sure. According to legend the ashes of the prophet Andraste were supposed to have healing properties. At least, they were supposed to have healed Aegis when he carried her ashes back from Tevinter, but were they lay now was anyone’s guess.

         The other news confirmed she’d already guessed, Loghain’s men had returned to Denerim after the defeat at Ostagar, and Queen Anora had declared him her regent once there. The death of the king and Loghain’s sudden rise to power must be causing quite a bit of unrest within the nobility. Some of them must have a sense that something more was going on.

         After picking up camping supplies from a man there, she left the tavern. They should probably head to the Chantry if they wanted to know what else was going on but Ciara really didn’t want to go. At least not with Morrigan with them. The templars were in control of this town and most of them were probably in the Chantry. Bringing an apostate, especially such an obvious one as Morrigan, would only cause problems. With that in mind, she headed out of town.


End file.
